


All We Know of Heaven, All We Need of Hell

by ninjaNinj



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Actually no one can catch a break, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Police, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Cop!Kurapika, Cop!Leorio, Dubcon/Noncon Elements, Grey Area - Freeform, Heavy Angst, Ideology change, Kurapika can't catch a break, Love Triangle, M/M, Phantom Troupe is less evil than canon, Pining Leorio, Violence, lots of one-sided ships, might have explicit content, top!Kurapika (eventually)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-01-26 14:07:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 39,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12559056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninjaNinj/pseuds/ninjaNinj
Summary: Kurapika is working as a Police Officer in YorkNew City with only one goal: to find the group that brutally murdered his aboriginal tribe.  After years of fruitless searching and dead ends, he is approached by a mysterious man with information on the Phantom Troupe.  What will happen when Kurapika makes a deal with this man and meets the Troupe?  How will his patrol partner, Leorio, react?





	1. What's Wrong?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know it's so wrong but I'm so far gone  
> Don't need you to tell me I'm so cynical  
> Quit being so over-skeptical  
> Don't need a metaphor for you to know I'm miserable  
> Song: What's Wrong - PVRIS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was heavily inspired by the PVRIS album: All We Know of Heaven, All We Need of Hell. This is the reason for the story's name. Therefore, all chapter summaries and the occasional transition are lyrics from songs from the album, and will correspond to the part that inspired it. That being said, this is not a Songfic. That album has so many beautiful songs that really fit KuroKura in my opinion.
> 
> I live in New York City right now, so all the places in YorkNew I reference are based on real places in the city. Also, I don't know Police talk or protocol, so I made it up. I don't know what an 808 or 654 is, but Kurapika sure does! It's creative writing, not a research essay, haha. Also note that in this AU Kurapika has pretty scarlet eyes all the time, and wears brown contacts to cover them up. Please enjoy Chapter 1! ;)

 

 

1:25 PM, YNPD, 13th Precinct, Square Union Office

 

The big bay windows spilled light onto the wooden desk, illuminating the red globe paperweight like a disco ball. Red reflects of light bounced off of Kurapika’s brown contact lenses, and all over the reference manual he had been using for yesterday’s patrol recap.  The distracting color made it impossible to focus.  With a click of his tongue, Kurapika stood up to close the blinds, shutting out the glaring sun from his modest office at the Yorknew theft and fraud prevention police department.  He had only a short while before patrol and was scrambling to finish this report before he had to leave. 

 

Kurapika, being the reliable man he was, would have had the report turned into the Sherriff before anyone else even got to the office, but today was an exception.  Last night there had been $200,000 worth of fine jewelry stolen from Brittany and co. in Jersey City.  No evidence had been found by the local police there besides a small spider graffiti symbol, tagged on the front window of the store.  Kurapika had spent the first half of the day scouring every article he could find about the event, since the spider symbol wasn’t just some insignificant token slapped on by edgy teens.  No, a heist of that caliber could only mean one thing: The Phantom Troupe.  Those words alone made his hands fists and his chest tight.

 

Kurapika returned to his seat, typing the rest of the report hastily, eager to re-check his news sites.  He finally finished with less detail than usual, sending the email to his Chief Officer.  A few clicks later, and he was back in business.

 

It was rumored that the real Troupe only rarely left their mark, and even then, they only mark when they want to make their presence known; either some sort of omen, calling card, or joke, mocking the government.  Organized crime was on the rise in Yorknew, and plenty of other groups had started using the spider symbol for small, house thefts.  However, Kurapika had seen it all at this point, and could easily tell an amateur theft group from the real Spiders.  The real Spiders never lowered themselves to petty house thefts, where the risk of being seen was too high for the reward of only one person’s humble belongings.  After years of somehow evading all forms of repercussions, the Troupe stuck to a few high-profile heists per year.  This lead was one Kurapika was going to try to follow through to every possible dead end.  Every time there was a chance to find them, Kurapika needed to be there, searching every corner, lifting up every rug, reaching for any information he could get on them. 

 

After all, the whole reason why he was even in the YNPD was to catch the bastards who murdered his entire village.

 

 

Partway through yet another vague article with very few details, Kurapika’s left hand was clenched in a fist on his desk, eyes sharp and brow furrowed.  He was completely lost in rage filled hyper-focus when suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder and he heard his name being yelled loudly. 

 

“What?! Oh-- hey Leorio.  Good morning,” he said curtly, eyes quickly following the hand on him up a shoulder to make brief eye contact with his partner before turning back to the article. 

 

 Leorio sighed.  “Pika, I’ve been calling your name for 5 minutes.  It’s time for patrol.  Let’s go.”

 

“Right, sorry.  I’ll be ready in five.  I’ve just been doing some research about the Jersey Heist last night.”

 

“I know. They didn’t find any evidence this time either, Pika.  Just give it a rest for a bit, will you? You can’t keep acting like this every time you hear the word ‘Spider’. You already missed half of my texts, haven’t answered any of your emails today, and your half of the patrol report was a mess.  The Sherriff is asking me if you’re coming to work sick again, and I can only cover for you so many times before he stops believing me.  If he finds out that you’re obsessing over dead-end cases outside of our jurisdiction again he won’t let us off easy, you know that,” Leorio said, almost yelling, exasperated and shaking his head. He put his palm to his forehead and sighed again.  He then grabbed Kurapika’s shoulders.  “I want you to have your justice too, and it’ll happen soon, okay? But today you need to get your shit together, and be out in the car in 5.”

 

Kurapika sat in silence for a minute as Leorio made his exit.  His partner was a cursing hothead, but Kurapika couldn’t help but feel bad.  Kurapika knew that recently he was getting desperate when it came to the Troupe, and it was affecting his performance and worrying his coworkers.  Hell, he had hardly been able to sleep lately.

 

The passionate rage that kept him going during the day faded into panicked guilt filled nights, where all he could think of was his whole town in a frenzy, parents backed into a corner in sheer terror, the unspeakable things they had to suffer before their early deaths, eyes gouged out and set on fire without so much as a single book or heirloom left intact, save for the scarlet eyes.  An entire culture, an entire people, all but forgotten, reduced to one body part.  It was absolutely horrifying.

 

Kurapika grabbed his utility belt, bulletproof vest, and open carry and made his way to the parked car on the busy street, resolved to live in the present for the rest of the day.  He couldn’t help but chuckle as he saw Leorio idly reading a book while waiting for him. His face was scrunched up in concentration, his tiny glasses barely hanging onto the bridge of his nose.  His leg was propped up on the dash, hunched over.  He was too big for regular-sized car, and looked hilarious trying to fit.  Kurapika was feeling extra appreciative for his caring patrol partner/best friend.  He hopped in the driver’s seat, ready for the real action that came with a job in the police force, and stepped on the gas.

 

* * *

  

“Look, Kurapika,” Leorio said.  Kurapika still seemed tense, and Leorio knew how worked up his partner was over the Troupe’s recent appearance. 

 

“Yeah?”

 

“They put in a new bookstore over there, and it has a café and a bar inside!” Leorio pointed to the place he was talking about, on the second floor of a tall apartment complex on 23rd street. 

 

“Oh, yeah,” Kurapika said without looking over, face still void of emotion. “I think I heard about that.”

 

“It’s great, isn’t it?  We should go check it out tonight after work if you aren’t busy.” The two friends would often go to different bookstores together when they were off shift, as Kurapika had a passion for reading.  Leorio loved to have good conversations about books with Kurapika, always reading whatever Kurapika recommended. The two would sip coffee together and relax over good books. 

 

“Can’t tonight.  Got too much work to do.  Sorry,” Kurapika said, and Leorio’s heart fell.  If even a new bookstore outing couldn’t cheer his friend up, then Leorio was powerless.  He knew exactly what Kurapika meant by ‘work to do’: he’d be up all night by himself in a guilt-ridden panic, searching for more leads.  Every time the Troupe made a heist it was the same story.  Kurapika distanced himself from everyone, shutting Leorio out, and leaving him alone again.  It pained Leorio deeply to know he couldn’t do anything to help.  He couldn’t make clues appear from thin air, and he couldn’t seem to distract Kurapika from his past grievances, to convince him to take a break from this self-destructive behavior.

 

“Alright.  Well, just let me know if you need anything. I’m always here.” Leorio said. “By the way, Gon and Killua are coming into town this weekend.  We’re all going to the Thomasburg flea market bazaar.” 

 

Kurapika’s expression didn’t change. “Right.  It will be nice to see them again,” he said, making a left turn.

 

Well, at least that wasn’t a ‘no’.  Leorio sighed, hoping that if nothing else, Kurapika knew that he could always turn to Leorio; that Leorio would always listen to anything his partner was willing to tell him.  Hopefully Kurapika would be feeling better by the time Gon and Killua arrived.  Leorio was willing to wait it out.

 

 

The two policemen sat in silence until they heard beeping from the receiver on the dash. Leorio picked it up immediately.

 

“ _Theft unit dispatch 13, are you 10-8?_

“Affirmative.”

_“Good. We’ve got an 808 up on 5 th outside the Pear Store.  Suspect is about 6’2”, 200 lbs, middle aged.  He’s got dark hair, blue eyes, and is armed.  We’re going to need you to head over immediately.  Be prepared for pursuit.  Over.”_ The dispatcher blinked green as it relayed the audio of the woman’s voice.

“Well you heard the lady! Some bozo’s trying to rob the Pear Store again.  Ha! Because that’s totally worked out for anyone before, ever.” Kurapika gave a small snort at Leorio’s sarcasm.

 

Leorio rubbed his hands together and grinned in excitement at Kurapika, hope glinting in his eyes that a little crime fighting could bring Kurapika back to his usual self. “It’s about time we saw some action today,” he added.

 

The pair had been patrolling for a little over an hour, Kurapika barely humming in response to any other attempts from his partner at conversation. The blonde was already flipping the car around, similarly hoping this call would be able to bring him out of his head.

 

 

Within 5 seconds of arriving the duo were out of the vehicle and on their feet, bursting through the glass doors of the Pear store. Kurapika was expert at following protocol: he picked up his receiver and said, “suspect and two accomplices spotted. Suspect wearing black pants and gray top and in position 654. Send backup.”

 

Said suspect currently had the manager at gunpoint, making him walk with the keys towards the vault where they keep all the electronics.  Other shoppers were scattered throughout the building trying to hide wherever they could. Muffled screams and cries could be heard from underneath tables. 

 

Leorio was already yelling through his bullhorn, “STEP AWAY FROM THE MAN AND PUT DOWN THE GUN.  WE WILL USE FORCE IF YOU DON’T COMPLY. I REPEAT: STEP AWAY FROM THE MAN AND PUT DOWN THE GUN.”

 

“If you try to use force, I’ll kill him, and shoot all of these people.”  The suspect shot the ground for emphasis, a couple screams could be heard from underneath wooden tables displaying uPhones and uPads.

 

 _Idiot._ Kurapika thought. _Surrender while you still have your life and your dignity._   He knew the man was no match for a trained professional like him.

 

Kurapika sighed, delivering a quick but dangerously hard punch the man’s ribs, which knocked him over, as Kurapika seamlessly picked up the suspect’s gun, pocketed it, then pulled out his own gun and pointed it over the suspect’s chest.  Leorio had one of the other guys restrained within a moment as well, but the third accomplice shot through one of the glass walls and made a break for Park Central.  Back up was just arriving and running into the Pear store entrance.  _He’s not getting away._

 

“Leorio, you know what to do.  Take care of the guy on the ground, while I grab the one that ran,” Kurapika yelled, already sprinting out the door and across the street in pursuit.

 

“Roger.”

 

Accomplice #3 was quickly disappearing into the crowd, until Kurapika caught a glimpse of a black clad figure on the edge of the red and gold trees lining the park. _Gotcha._ Kurapika started shoving his way through the crowd, and yelled, “Suspect on the loose, step aside.”

The backup was out now, and had quickly figured out the situation.  They created a gap in the masses, parting the crowd like the red sea to make room for the running policeman.

 

 Kurapika made it across the street and into the park just in time to lock his gaze on the accomplice as he receded into the trees.  He chased accomplice #3 all the way through a clearing, about 10 blocks up from where they started.  He finally cornered the criminal at a landmark with a dead end, where the only thing one could see from any direction but the small path they had taken was giant rocks, too steep to climb.  The man had nowhere to run and was now panicking.  He pulled out his handgun and prepared to fight Kurapika.

 

“You’re under arrest for armed robbery.” Kurapika said calmly, his own gun already pointed back at the man.

 

The man was trembling now, and still hadn’t fired the gun.  Kurapika easily called his bluff, figuring the man only loaded the gun with a few bullets, and had used them all when trying to escape the Pear Store.  “I’ll shoot, I swear.  If you arrest me my buddies will come after you.”

 

“I’d be interested to see them try.” Kurapika advanced towards the man slowly.  “By the way, you might want to choose your words carefully from now on.  Anything you say can and will be used against you.”

 

“They’ll come after your family too! Steal, rape, torture, and kill them all.  Just you wait!”

 

Kurapika had all but closed the distance, but paused for a moment to stare at the man, a thoughtful yet grim expression on his face.  The trembling had gotten so bad the man literally lost hold of the gun, and it fell to the ground.

 

“Family…?  What family? … I haven’t used that word in a long time.” And with that, Kurapika punched the man in the face, knocking him out.  He collected the man’s gun off the ground, turned his body over, and put handcuffs on him.

 

Well, there was nothing quite like chaining up some bad guys to bring momentary satisfaction to our favorite blonde boy.  He threw the gangly man over his shoulder and started heading back to the main crime scene.

 

* * *

  

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. The autumn leaves underneath Kurapika’s feet.  Caw. Caw.  The crows called from the bare branches.  Swooooosh. The wind blew past the blonde cop’s ears, ruffling his golden locks.  Fall in Yorknew was beautifully noisy, and the habitual sounds combined with the autumn landscape of Park Central created a hypnotic effect. Kurapika felt all the adrenaline slowly drain and relaxed for first time all day, strolling leisurely with the handcuffed man in tow. 

 

Suddenly, a buff looking guy with bright red hair and clown makeup appeared in front of Kurapika, blocking his path on the small dirt trail. 

 

_Did he just fall out of that tree?_

Kurapika nodded to the man in acknowledgement and made to go around him, only to be intercepted.

 

“Excuse me officer, could I have a moment of your time?”

 

 _Man, these street solicitors must be getting desperate. This clown made a grand entrance just to hit up a police officer for some money?_ Kurapika really did not have the time to be bothered to donate to the circus that day, let alone with this criminal on his shoulder. 

 

“Sorry sir.  I’m in the middle of patrol.  You have a nice day though,” he said nicely, because as a public servant, Kurapika had to remain calm and civil when dealing with even the most audacious of circus freaks. 

 

The clown grabbed his wrist, got in his face, and said “Are you sure, officer?  I have an excellent proposition at an excellent deal.”  Kurapika noticed the bizarre makeup he had on: white foundation, a teardrop on one cheek, and a star on the other.  Or were those tattoos? 

 

Regardless, there was no more time to waste thinking about this creep.

 

“I said no, thank you.  Now if you’ll excuse me,” he said brushing past the clown, pace quickening.  After he had gotten several paces away, he heard the clown’s voice again, this time from… above him?

 

“It’s about the Spider, Kurapika.”

 

Kurapika froze, a chill tickling his spine.  His hand instinctively hovering over the weapon holster on his utility belt. “Who are you?” he said in any icy tone, looking around to find where the clown had appeared next.

 

Once again, the clown seemingly materialized out of thin air in front of him.  This time in an unnatural, off-putting pose.  The clown was bent over at a 45-degree angle, tilted sideways, with one leg behind the other.  Both legs were rotated just a bit too far to the side; Kurapika was sure the average person wouldn’t be able to mimic this pose.  The clown had his hand extended, head tilted the opposite way as his body, and his yellow eyes looked Kurapika square in the face.  “Ah,” he said, “do forgive me.  I am Hisoka Morow: magician, entrepreneur, and hopefully your new ally.”

 

Kurapika ignored the extended hand.  “How do you know my name?”

 

Hisoka lowered his arm to his side, body untwisting slowly to an upright position.  His lips curled in a sly grin.  “I was hoping I might extend an offer.  I happen to know the location and time of the Phantom Troupe’s next heist, and would be willing to share in exchange for something you have access to.”

 

Kurapika narrowed his eyes.  “And how do I know you’re not lying?” he asked.

 

“I suspected you’d be wary.  That’s why I brought these.”  Hisoka reached into his pocket to pull out a glass jar filled with some sort of preservative.  It had two round objects suspended in the jelly-like substance.  You could see black pupils lined with red irises in the most beautiful shade of scarlet.

 

Kurapika’s eyes widened as his chest constricted.  “Those aren’t…  it can’t be…” he choked out. 

 

“Kurta eyeballs,” Hisoka finished for him.  “Considered extremely rare and valuable to body part collectors in the black market around here.  These and the information I have are all yours, if you’ll help me find what I’m looking for.”

 

Kurapika’s hand lifted on its own to grab for the jar, only to have Hisoka lift it up and out of his reach.  “Ah, ah ah, Kurapika,” the clown taunted, “first we must make a deal.”

 

“What do you want?” Kurapika answered through gritted teeth, eyes still glued to the jar.

 

“Do you remember the Bungee Gum experiment in the eighties?”

 

“You mean that supposedly all-purpose pink stuff?  Yeah, I’ve heard of it.  It happened before my time though,” Kurapika said.  Back in the day, the government invested in several tons of this substance that was meant to replace everything from climbing gear to handcuffs. They tried desperately to make it catch on in Yorknew, equipping each precinct with 1000 liters of the stuff.  Unfortunately, the Bungee Gum ended up a total failure, with criminals getting away and several uniformed officers dying from falls.  The gum was discontinued after a few years.

 

“I want you to bring me whatever you have left of it.  I need it for an… experiment of sorts.”

 

“Alright. Deal.” Kurapika answered immediately, not about to let this opportunity go to waste.  With the first pair of Kurta eyes he’d seen since they were still on a human body in sight, his head was completely clouded with thoughts of vengeance, rage, and desire.  He would do whatever he had to for his late brethren.

 

Hisoka flashed another unsettling smile.  “Excellent.  Meet me here tonight at midnight, and we’ll make our exchange final.  I look forward to working with you, Kurapika,” Hisoka said before turning and walking away from the blonde cop to disappear into the trees.

 

* * *

 

  

“Nice glasses, pig.  You look like a poor man’s Agent Smith.”

 

Leorio’s patience was wearing thin as he waited with the cuffed criminals.  He wondered what was taking his partner so long to get back to the patrol car. 

 

“Shut up, asshole!” Leorio barked at the man who was taunting him.  “I may be poor but at least I’m not stupid enough to try robbing a Pear Store in broad daylight!” The criminal cackled and it took every ounce of restraint Leorio had not to punch him in the face.

 

The backup officers they had called had sectioned off the surrounding area of the store, to deal with the victims of the crime, and record eyewitness accounts. Leorio and the criminals were waiting just outside of the area, next to a line of 3 police cars.

 

“Come on Leorio.  Let’s go.”

 

Leorio’s head whirled around to lock eyes with his partner.  Kurapika finally showed up, escorting the accomplice he caught across the adjacent street.  The accomplice was now lucid and forced to walk in front of Kurapika.  Kurapika’s face was pale and expressionless.

 

“Yo, Pika!  You finally made it.  What took so long?  Is everything okay?  You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

 

“I’m fine,” Kurapika said abruptly. “Get them in the car.” 

 

The two cops shuffled the handcuffed culprits into the car and shut the doors.  Kurapika and Leorio then took their spots in the driver’s and passenger’s seats, respectively, and took off.

 

Leorio remained skeptical of Kurapika.  Even on the worst of days, he never looked _that_ bad while escorting a bandit back to the car.  Something must have happened when they split up that Kurapika was keeping from him.

 

“You sure you’re okay, man? Did something happen in Park Central?” Leorio asked.

 

“For Christ’s sake, Leorio.  I’m fine.  Nothing happened really.  I just-- It’s just been kind of a strange day,” Kurapika lied, the image of the terrifying clown man who somehow knew things about Kurapika and his deepest secrets lingering in his head.   The cop duo had just dropped off their culprits at prison and were heading back to the office.

 

“If you say so, Pika,” Leorio said, unconvinced.

 

Kurapika groaned internally as they pulled into their precinct’s parking lot.  Leorio didn’t buy it, and he needed his partner off his back if he was going to retrieve the Bungee Gum for Hisoka tonight.  He needed to convince Leorio that everything was fine, so he forced a smile.

 

“I’m actually feeling a lot better after patrol.  What do you say we grab a bite to eat?  I need to grab a few things from my desk first, so why don’t I meet you at The Winslow in half an hour?” Kurapika asked, attempting to buying himself some time, and convince Leorio not to come after him.  He couldn’t risk his partner seeing him go in or out of the outdated weapons closet.

 

Leorio’s face lit up in delighted surprise at Kurapika’s offer. “I would love to! That sounds great!  I’ll see you soon, then!” 

 

Kurapika sent another smile towards Leorio, as warmly as his racing mind would allow as he watched his friend exit the car. _Half an hour.  I can do this._

Kurapika entered the office and saw that most people were packing up to leave for the day. A few coworkers congratulated him on stopping the Pear Store robbers.  Kurapika absentmindedly thanked them as he made his way to his office.  Gears were turning in his head as he tried to think of the best way to smuggle out the substance.  _This briefcase should be big enough…_

He checked the hallway: the coast was clear.  He walked as fast as he could to the closet labeled outdated weapons and police gear.

 

 _Old walkie talkies… Choke chains for K9 unit… Wait. Choke chains?  Interesting._ Kurapika grabbed one and stashed it in his briefcase, intrigued.  _This might come in handy one day._ Mostly, he just thought they looked cool.  He resumed his search.

 

 _Tear gas… The police force used to use tear gas?...  Whatever—I don’t care right now. Maces… LMGs… Aha!  Bungee Gum._ There were about 15 skinny cylindrical buckets left of the stuff.  Kurapika grabbed 5 of them and got the hell out of there.  It would have to be enough, as he couldn’t carry any more.  Besides, Leorio was probably already waiting for him. 

 

He made his way to the restaurant.  _I’ve just got to get through this dinner._ Just like he had suspected, Leorio was waiting at the bar, and noticed Kurapika enter.  Leorio must have gone home to change, as he was now wearing a white long-sleeve button-down shirt and black trousers.  Kurapika thought it suited him.

 

“Hey Kurapika.  Thanks for coming to dinner tonight.”

 

“There’s no need to thank me. I invited you, didn’t I?” Kurapika took his seat next to Leorio at the bar.

 

Leorio chuckled.  “I suppose you’re right.  I’m glad you did, although I still wanted to check out that new bookstore.”  He flagged down the waiter.  “The usual please.  Same for you, Pika?”

 

“I’ll just take the burger tonight, no beer.  Thanks,” Kurapika said, not wanting to drink before his shifty appointment with Hisoka tonight.  “Well, maybe we’ll go there some other time,” he said in reference to the bookstore.

 

Leorio eyed him skeptically.  “No beer tonight?”

 

“Not tonight.  I’m just not feeling in the mood.”

 

Leorio was not buying it.  “Are you going to tell me what’s up with you?  You’ve been acting strange all afternoon.”

 

Kurapika was getting frustrated at how well Leorio seemed to know him, and could tell something was off by even the smallest of hints, but he couldn’t let him know about the events of this afternoon.  It was too risky.  Leorio would try to stop him from making the deal, and even if he didn’t, Kurapika couldn’t allow Leorio or anyone else to be put in any danger by his actions.

 

“Again, Leorio-- nothing’s wrong.  Have you been reading that Stevon Kingly novel lately?” Kurapika changed the subject, hoping to get Leorio talking until they could eat.  It worked.

 

Leorio had been going on about his thoughts and recollection of the novel, and the burgers were served.

 

“So yeah, I loved the symbolism in the part when Frankie and Sally fight the monster.  By the way, do you happen to have any extra painkillers?  My head’s been pounding all day,” Leorio started to reach for Kurapika’s briefcase. 

 

_Shit._

Kurapika ripped his briefcase from Leorio’s hands, panicking.

 

“What do you think you’re doing?  You can’t just grab my briefcase whenever you feel like it,” he snapped.  Leorio retracted his hand and blinked, wide eyed at Kurapika’s overreaction.

 

“Sorry, I just assumed, since you let me borrow them before.”

 

Kurapika took a breath and nervously ran his hands through his hair, realizing how suspicious he just sounded.  He needed to calm down.  “It’s alright.  I um—I have to go now.” He opened his wallet and threw some money on the table.  “This should cover my half of the bill. I’ll see you tomorrow,” and walked quickly towards the door before Leorio could stop him.

 

“Pika…” he heard Leorio say as the door shut behind him. 

  

* * *

 

 

12:00 am, Park Central, Sliding Rock Landmark

 

Kurapika was leaning against the rocks that made up Sliding Rock. A dark figure appeared in front of him. 

 

“Ah, there you are, officer.  Glad you could make it.”  Kurapika wasn’t sure if the chill he felt then was from the crisp night air or Hisoka’s abrupt appearance. “Shall we?”

 

“I want the information first.”

 

“Very well then.  The Troupe will be at the Met Gala this weekend at 10 pm.  They’ll be stealing everything from The Golden Art Gallery: Room 15 LL1.”

 

“How do you know?”

 

Hisoka merely flashed a cunning smile and rolled up his sleeve, revealing a tattoo of a spider with a number 4 written on it.  “Because, up until last month, I was a member.”

 

Kurapika drew a sharp intake of air.  Between the tattoo, the Kurta eyes, and his dark aura, Kurapika knew he wasn’t lying.  Kurapika could suddenly feel the danger in Hisoka’s presence, and felt like he should leave as quickly as possible.  As much as he wanted to know more about Hisoka’s motives, he was now too afraid to ask.  

 

“Here’s the substance you asked for.  I’ll trade you for the eyes.”

 

Hisoka pulled out the glass jar, and after what felt like an eternity, Kurapika finally got his hands on the eyes, making the exchange final. 

Hisoka held out his hand. “Pleasure doing business with you, Kurapika.”

 

Kurapika gave him a nod and a quick shake, and then turned to leave.  After he was a safe distance from Hisoka, he started running to the train station, ready to be home and done with the day. 

 

As soon as he walked into his apartment and pulled the eyes out from his bag, he couldn’t hold back anymore. The tears started to fall down his cheeks. 

 

_The Met Gala.  This weekend I will catch the Spiders.  I’ll kill them if I have to.  The suffering must end with me._

 

  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you so so much for reading! I have so much fun writing this! I love feedback and hearing from my readers, so please comment with any thoughts you might have! I'll try to update frequently-hopefully every week/every other week. I'm also a college student, so bear with me.


	2. Two for Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some days I feel everything  
> Others are numbing  
> Can never find the in between  
> It's all or nothing
> 
> I never never never said that I wanted  
> I never never never never said I wanted
> 
> Never wanted to be here now  
> One foot in the grave, other on the ground  
> I can't process what I'm feeling now  
> This skin I can do without  
> Song: Half - PVRIS

Kurapika had been on a trip when it happened.  He flew out to YorkNew when he was only 13 for a spelling bee.  The young boy had been top of his class, and the best speller in his entire school.  He begged his parents for weeks to let him go to the biggest competition in the tri-state area; his best friend Pairo even put in a good word with Kurapika’s parents to grant permission.  The small blonde boy had set up everything from the train ride to the spelling bee accommodation all by himself so that his parents wouldn’t have to stress or miss work. 

 

The young adolescent had kissed his parents goodbye and set off to the big city all alone.  When he arrived, he loved every second of it, having never seen a real city before.  The lights were bright and colorful, the people were cool and fashionable, and the streets were lively and bustling.  By the time his stay had ended he had explored, made friends, and even placed first in the spelling bee.  He had called his parents’ phone number 10 times that night to try to share the great news, only to hear nothing but rings and voicemails.  It wasn’t until the night before his train ride home that he saw the news on TV. 

 

_Lukso Province’s Kurta Aboriginal Reservation Burnt to Pieces, Residents Massacred. Over 200 Casualties, No Survivors._

Little Kurapika had lost everything that night, and from that moment on, nothing had been the same.  He’d called the police in a panicked sob from his accommodation and they had him explain his situation.  The police were kind and understanding and promptly placed Kurapika into YorkNew’s foster care system. That night, Kurapika’s entire outlook on life had changed.  He decided to give up every childhood dream he’d had, knowing that one day he’d join the YNPD.  There was no other option in his mind.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Friday 8:15 PM, Thomasburg, Caitlyn, YN

 

_Suit?  Check.  Wallet?  Check.  Weapons?  Check. Belt Chain?  Also Check._

 

Kurapika was running a mental checklist of all the things he needed for the evening.  He’d chosen to wear one of his finer suits, the sleek black of the fabric accentuating his lithe, yet toned body.  A thought occurred to him as he finished buttoning the cufflinks: he’d forgotten to put in his contacts.  He went to the bathroom and switched on the light. 

 

Standing in front of his bathroom mirror, he saw a pale figure reflected back at him.  The eyes looked vacant, like pools of red void.  The corners of the mouth turned slightly downward, lips tightly pushing together.  The cheeks were ever so slightly sunken inwards, casting a shadow underneath them.  He knew he was seeing his own face, yet somehow it had never felt so foreign, so distant.

 

Was he nervous for tonight? Perhaps, but he’d never thought of facing his enemy, or even killing someone, in terms of his own fear.  The concept seemed to exist outside of him, as something larger than the man he’d grown to be.  He only knew that it felt like the duty had been thrust upon him to follow through, as long as he could remember.

 

He put in his left contact, followed by his right, and watched as scarlet irises all but disappeared into brown.  If you looked close enough in the right lighting, you’d just be able to see a tiny red ring circling his pupil where the contact ended.  This ensured his vision was not hindered when his pupils expand and contract with various levels of light.  Kurapika took one last look in the mirror, before switching out the lights and leaving his apartment. 

 

Kurapika put his hand out to wave down the nearest taxi. 

 

“Where ya goin, kid?”

 

“Take me to the Met, please.”  Kurapika hopped in the cab and closed the door.  Part way through the trip, his phone began buzzing. 

 

 _Leorio_. 

 

Kurapika dismissed the call, and it was soon followed by several shorter buzzes of text messages. 

 

_Are you still coming with me to pick up the boys?  They get into KFJ at 11 tonight._

A few minutes passed.

 

_…Kurapika?_

_Pika, I know you’re there.  It says ‘Read’.  Is everything okay?_

Kurapika put his phone in his pocket, not wanting anymore distractions. He’d catch up with his friends later, but tonight he had more important things to worry about.  They were passing over Caitlyn Bridge now, just a few minutes away from their destination.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Friday, 9:45 PM, Metropolitan Museum of Art, 5th Avenue

 

When they arrived Kurapika wasted no time pushing through the crowds of beautifully dressed people to buy his ticket.  It was $800 per person, so only the true elites of YorkNew’s upper east side were in attendance tonight.  Kurapika coughed up the money without a second thought, for he knew tonight was not the night for frugality. 

 

As he walked up the steps of the Met he brushed past frilly dresses, fancy tuxedos, and even some people he recognized as celebrities.  Normally he would have done a double take, as celebrity sightings were rare, but he was far too focused on his goal tonight.  He burst through the doors and immediately his senses were filled with the atmosphere of the party.  Waitresses donning revealing dresses tried offering him some hors d'oeuvres and cocktails.  The party had a live jazz band, and the sounds of saxophones and buzzing conversations filled his ears. Kurapika pushed forward, avoiding anyone that could get in his way.  He had to get downstairs.  His eyes scanned all corners of the room for access to the galleries, and landed on a spot where elevators to the other levels were located.  The area with elevators was sectioned off, with several employees guarding it. 

 

However, there was a marble staircase going downstairs in the left-hand corner of the room. Although it was also sectioned off, there was only one security guard over there, who was already surrounded by party-goers.  If he could just wait till the guard was distracted and sneak around the dividers…

 

Bingo.  He was in, quickly running down the steps and out of sight of the security guard. 

 

He made it to the basement, which was actually quite dim. There was only a ring of what Kurapika might call night lights lining where the floor meets the wall.  The result was barely light enough to see figures moving around, but not quite enough to make out a person’s face from far away.  Kurapika immediately picked out where the security cameras were and mapped out a route to avoid their field of vision as much as possible. He had to find room LL1-15, and didn’t need security guards after him tonight.

 

Kurapika laid low as he made his way through the narrow hallway.  LL1-10, LL1-11, LL1-12… He turned the corner.  This hallway was a bit shorter, and filtered in to a larger room containing several large sculptures, making pillars and divisions throughout the space.  He passed room 13, 14, and Kurapika guessed that room 15, chronologically, should exist right where that door was on the other side of the sculpture room. Right as he entered the room his guess was confirmed, because he could hear voices talking from the other end.  Kurapika darted behind the cover of a sculpture as fast as he could and sunk to the floor, eavesdropping.

  

“Boss said to take everything that’s got gold in it.  Kortopi, switch out all the fakes you brought while Uvo and I get all this stuff to the car.  Paku, you keep watch by the stairwell to the party.”  The voice sounded like a teenage boy.  Kurapika dared peek his head around the corner, and just saw the outline of figures before he quickly turned back, eyes wide with shock and adrenaline. 

 

Hisoka had not been bluffing.

 

The next few moments felt like a crushing eternity as he watched them pass by with their first haul. Kurapika held his breath and curled his body into a ball, hoping that his body was completely obscured by shadow. The first figure to pass must have been the member designated for lookout, as it was a blonde woman with short hair dressed in a pretty convincing security guard outfit.  The next one to pass was extremely short with long silverish hair.  Some observational part of Kurapika’s brain noted that it was interesting that the Troupe had a dwarf member.  The dwarf was followed by three guys, all carrying separate gold artifacts.  

 

 

The footsteps carried down the hall, and Kurapika did not hear any subsequent footsteps.  Kurapika dared to look around the sculpture once more to see the room 15 door wide open with no one else in sight.  Phew, Kurapika had so far been undetected.  He made his move, stalking silently down the hall, with a plan formulating in his head.  Since it appeared there were only 5 members of the Troupe, he would capture the woman, taking her as hostage.  He followed the retracting sound of footsteps to the same room with the stairs he came in from.  Peeking around the corner he saw the dwarf and the three other men disappear into a less public stairwell exit, as the woman went to stand by those fancy tile stairs leading up to the party. 

 

It was time to make his move. The woman was facing away from him, all he had to do was approach her from behind and cover her mouth.  He had his gun in his pocket and could have it pointed at her head in seconds.  He rounded the corner, ready to pounce, when he heard footsteps approaching from the stairs accompanied by a voice.

 

“Excuse me ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you some questions.” The other security guard’s body came into full view as he descended down the last few steps.  He must have seen the woman on the cameras in uniform.  “I don’t remember an Officer Starling working here befo-…” but as soon as his right foot touched the ground, the troupe woman had already plunged a knife through the man’s heart, covering his mouth as she did so. 

 

As he watched from the shadows, all sense of clarity in Kurapika’s brain was immediately replaced by a muddy flood of pure anger.  He acted on instinct, and before he knew it his gun was out and he had fired two bullets directly into the woman’s chest. 

 

 _Boom._ The ear-splitting sound of gunshots reverberated off the walls of the room.  Kurapika was frozen, eyes widening in realization of what just happened, what he’d just done.  The crowd upstairs had heard the commotion and were filing down the steps now, curiosity and fear in their eyes as they saw the woman and man crumpled on the floor. 

 

Kurapika stood there for another moment with the gun still pointed, unable to move. 

 

 _Fuck. Fuck. This does not look good._ _Fuck._

Finally, his brain unfroze, comprehending the reality of his actions.  It took another second too long for his body to catch up, for his legs to agree that it was time to _move._   His eyes darted around the room, looking for any escape.  _There_ , he thought, eyes finally landing on the red glowing exit sign, _that’ll have to do_.  He made a break for it, to that same exit that he had watched the Troupe members disappear to. 

 

At this point, he’d have to pray that he could make it outdoors in time.  He’d made it up the first flight, only two more to go.   He made it up the second flight as well, only to meet face to face with the big, buff phantom troupe member he’d seen earlier, presumably on his way back down for the second haul.  He must have been outside when Kurapika had fired the gun.

 

“Oi, kid, don’t you think you should get back to your party? This stairwell is for emergencies only.”  The man’s voice was loud and threatening.  He was easily twice the size of Kurapika and totally ripped.

 

 _Well, I guess we’re going for two-out-of-five tonight._   Kurapika didn’t really have time to stop and think here other than that he knew he had to get rid of this guy, and fast to make his escape.  He knew he couldn’t get around him without taking him down.  The Troupe man was bigger than him, yes.  However, any person with combat training knows that the problem with big guys is that they’re slow.  Kurapika was not only faster, but had the element of surprise, as this troupe member wasn’t expecting a fight from someone who looked like a party goer in the stairwell.

 

Kurapika pulled out his pepper spray, using it on the big man.  The guy cried out, cursing.  Good, that opened up a few seconds for a finishing blow.  He used them to pull out his knife, and took the big guy down with an expertly timed stab through the chest.

 

He bridged the gap between himself and the final flight of stairs in under ten seconds, landing outside and on the ground in less than thirty.  His feet were carrying him as fast as they could go. He just needed to make it to the back courtyard exit and he’d be home free.

 

As he spanned the distance of the rest of the building he quickly glanced over his shoulder to see if anyone had followed him out.  Kurapika whipped his head back around just in time to see a fist colliding straight with his face, followed by spots and heavy, thick pain, before he slipped into unconsciousness.

  

* * *

 

 

“Hey Shal, this little blonde fucker just ran out of our secret pathway, so I knocked him out. What do we do with him?”  Feitan held an unconscious Kurapika in his arms the same way someone who hated babies might hold one if they were forced to.  “He’s got blood on his hands and clothes.  Maybe he’s a hitman,” Feitan guessed.  Kortopi stood next to him, holding a golden stolen item that resembled a toilet seat.  The item was almost as big as him.

 

“Go ahead and take the boy and the loot to the van, for now.  I’ll go see what’s taking Paku and Uvo so long,” Shalnark replied, as he headed back towards the building’s exit.

 

Feitan and Kortopi made their way over to the getaway van nonchalantly.  They’d done this so many times they felt every move was foolproof, perfectly choreographed.  They never worried about any details, let alone running into threats.  The van was parked in the alleyway just outside the rear courtyard exit.  Feitan laid unconscious Kurapika down across the back row of the vehicle as Kortopi finished putting the last of their haul in the trunk. 

 

As Kortopi came around in the van Feitan said with a malicious smile, “Come on, let’s see what this kid’s got on him.  If we like it, we’ll take it.” Kortopi nodded in agreement, then Feitan began emptying Kurapika’s pockets. 

 

Feitan pulled up the bottom of Kurapika’s suit jacket to reach up into his pocket.  He noticed a thin chain hanging down from Kurapika’s belt loop, attached at the front loop and hooked around to the back loop. Attached to it were Kurapika’s keys.  The chain was just short enough for Kurapika’s jacket to conceal it when he was standing.  Feitan quickly ripped it off of him to gain better access to his pockets.

 

The first thing he pulled out was Kurapika’s wallet and handed it to Kortopi to hold.  He then pulled out handcuffs, a contact case, and a phone.  _Interesting,_ he thought.  He reached around to Kurapika’s other side and found his knife, choke chain, pepper spray, and loaded gun.  The knife was nice, high quality, but it still had fresh blood on it. 

 

The men were interrupted by a distressed Shalnark, who was running towards the car with gritted teeth and a torn expression on his face.  Feitan and Kortopi opened the side door, to hear Shalnark yelling in a broken voice, “They’re dead! Pakunoda and Uvogin. They’re dead.  Someone killed them.  We gotta get out of here, start the car.”

 

Feitan and Kortopi’s jaws dropped.  Feitan looked back at the boy in their backseat and thought, _could it be?  Did this kid just take down two of us?_ A part of him was thrilled at the thought; he loved a good fighter, and was intrigued by the young man passed out in the van.  Another more sadistic part of him was ambivalent, and kind of just wanted to see Kurapika’s face as life slowly drained from his eyes.  The boss might let him use Uvogin’s death as an excuse for torture.  He climbed up to the driver’s seat and slid in, pulling his bandana back up and over his face to hide the smile dancing on his lips that he was sure Shalnark would disapprove of at a time like this.  He started the car, heading back to the base.  One last look at the Met was another slice of evidence that Kurapika had really stirred things up tonight. People and reporters were now flooding the courtyard, panic and mania clear as daylight on their faces.

 

“Shal, I think we caught our culprit," he said, hand vaguely gesturing to the back seat.  Kortopi’s got his things.”  Shalnark reached back from the passenger’s seat to collect Kurapika’s items from Kortopi. 

 

“The hell?” Shalnark started as he sifted through Kurapika’s things.  “Does this guy have some sort of a chain fetish?  Oh god… Paku had gunshot wounds and---and Uvo had a stab wound! And he’d been pepper sprayed!”  Shalnark’s face was twisted up into a ragged frown.  Surely, he was more than upset at the loss of his friends.  Shalnark turned to look back at where Kurapika lay in the back row as the van moved downtown.  “Who the hell is this kid?”

 

“I dunno,” Feitan answered.  “Look through his wallet and see what you can find out.”

 

“I kinda just want to kill him,” Shalnark whined.

 

“Me too, but you know the rules.  Boss would be pissed if we killed this guy without consulting him.”

 

Shalnark sighed as he opened up Kurapika’s wallet, a pout growing on his face.  He found Kurapika’s driver’s license and held it up to get a closer look at it.  Kortopi now had his face between their seats, also curious to learn about this crazy chain guy.

 

“Kurapika K.” Shalnark read from the driver’s license.  “Wait his last name’s just the letter ‘K’?  Hmm…  23 years old, blonde hair, brown eyes, male, 130 pounds,” Shalnark turned the card over to looked at his signature.  “Well, he’s got nice handwriting.” 

 

“Keep looking through his wallet, at his other cards,” Feitan directed.

 

“Yeah, maybe he’s got a work ID or something,” Kortopi added.

 

“Wait, this is…” Shalnark’s jaw dropped as he held up another card.  “This is a police ID! Guys, chain boy’s a cop!”

 

Feitan heard Kortopi gasp from the backseat.  “Well, he _was_ a cop.  He certainly isn’t one anymore.  You should call the boss and tell him what’s going on.”

 

“Okay, I’m on it,” Shalnark said, pulling out his stolen uPhone Z. 

“Put him on speaker.”

 

 _Hello? Shalnark? How’s it going over there?_ Chrollo’s voice was calm through the speaker.

 

“Hey boss, I uh--well—we uh… we got the loot.” Shalnark’s voice was wavering now, not wanting to break the news.  “But we took a hit tonight boss, and uh… Uvogin and Pakunoda… they… they didn’t make it back with us.”

 

 _What are you talking about?_ Chrollo asked urgently.

 

Shalnark hesitantly explained the events that happened earlier, getting worked up as he did.  His voice was cracking when he said, “and the guy who did it's knocked out in the backseat right now, and I kind of want him dead.”

 

For a minute, the three men in the car heard nothing but silence from the other end of the line.  

 

Then finally, Chrollo seemed to take a deep breath.

 

 _I see. What happened tonight is a true, deep shame, but don’t kill the boy just yet. I want to meet him.  Bring him back to the base and we’ll decide what to do with him._ Chrollo’s voice was strong and clear, but Feitan picked up on the slightest touch of melancholy behind his boss’s calm façade.

 

Shalnark’s eyes hardened as he replied, “yes boss.  See you soon.”

 

 


	3. Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Half my bones in the city streets  
> The other in my sheets  
> And I don't think they'll ever get  
> The chance to meet
> 
> I never never never said that I wanted (That I wanted)  
> I never never never never said I wanted
> 
> Never wanted to be here now  
> One foot in the grave, other on the ground  
> I can't process what I'm feeling now  
> This skin I can do without
> 
> (cont from last chapter Song: Half -PVRIS)
> 
> You took my heaven away...

1:30 am, Kings, Yorknew, Phantom Troupe Base

 

There was blinding light, followed by a dull, waxing ache concentrated in Kurapika’s head as his eyes blinked open.  He tried to sit up, eyes adjusting slowly to the light, as the pain in his head grew to a throb.  Several figures popped into view as he blinked, rubbing his eyes. 

 

“He’s awake!” a voice cried, and Kurapika’s head turned to the right to follow the noise.

 

He saw a young woman who wore a black turtleneck and had short black hair and glasses pointing at him, and suddenly felt pressure restraining his left arm and leg.  He whipped around to see a pink haired woman holding him down; his free arm instinctually reached for his weapon only to be met with an empty pocket.  Just as Kurapika started to struggle away from the woman’s grip, a short man with black hair swiftly restrained his right side, rendering Kurapika immobile.

 

“Looking for these...?” a blonde boy with a bowl cut hairstyle had a smug smile in Kurapika’s direction.  In his hands, he held up Kurapika’s weapons, chains, and wallet.

 

Kurapika tensed, pupils dilating in fear as he scanned the faces of his captors.  The black-haired man had a menacing look in his eyes; the pink-haired woman looked completely void of emotion.  More people started gathering around him with curious looks on their faces.  Kurapika started counting: 1, 2, 3 people… he locked eyes with a dwarf with long silver hair, and his suspicions were confirmed.  This was the Phantom Troupe, and he had severely underestimated their numbers.  Kurapika counted 10 people in the room that were closing in on him like shrinking walls in a horror movie.

 

“Boss,” the man on his right started, “should I begin the interrogation?” he asked, with a maniacal glint in his eyes.  Kurapika followed his gaze to a handsome man with dark hair, dark eyes, and a cross tattoo on his forehead.  He was nothing like Kurapika had envisioned the Spider head: this man was far too young, attractive, and innocent looking.  He wore a long leather jacket with a fur collar, and was staring right at Kurapika. 

 

“Not yet, Feitan.  Let him breathe for a moment.” Feitan and the woman relaxed their grips ever so slightly, but didn’t move away.

 

“Shalnark, his wallet,” he said, holding his hand out to that same blonde boy with the smile.  The boss pulled out one of Kurapika’s cards, inspecting it.  “Kurapika K, YNPD.”  He looked back at Kurapika’s face, then chuckled once, shaking his head.  “You’re the last person I would have expected to take down two of us.”

 

 _What the hell was that supposed to mean?_   Kurapika’s eyes narrowed, insulted, but he said nothing. 

 

“Who told you we’d be at the Met last Friday?” the boss asked.

 

“You better not lie,” Feitan warned, “I’ll know, and I don’t like liars.” He gave Kurapika’s arm an uncomfortably tight squeeze.

 

Kurapika closed his eyes and said nothing at all. These people didn’t deserve anything, especially information.  After a few beats of silence, he heard a sigh and his eyes flicked open to look at the boss. 

 

“Alright, Feitan, go ahead,” the boss directed with a wave of his hand. Kurapika grimaced and tried not to scream as he felt a shooting pain up his right arm.

 

“You sure you don’t want to talk, pig?”  Feitan’s eyes were glinting sadistically down at Kurapika as he grabbed his wrist, twisting and bending it backwards into an unnatural position.  Kurapika choked out a noise in agony, eyes bulging.  Feitan smiled at his reaction, clearly enjoying his pain.  The boss was facing away from Kurapika now, eyes closed as if he didn’t want to watch.  Suddenly, Kurapika felt a searing burn in his finger.  Feitan had a knife wedged under his fingernail, pushing it deeper and deeper…

 

The pain was unbearable; Kurapika couldn’t take it.  “It was Hisoka!” Kurapika finally cried.  “Hisoka Morow.  He told me!” The pressure under his fingernail subsided instantly, replaced by a dull throb.  Kurapika let out a breath and laid his head back down, watching as a flash of realization replaced the expressionless void of Pink-hair’s face. 

 

“I knew it!” she exclaimed, and the entire room turned to look at the usually stoic woman with surprise. 

 

“Explain, Machi,” the boss said.  The question made the girl suddenly turn sheepish, and she shrugged.

 

“Just a hunch,” Machi admitted. 

 

“I see,” the boss replied.  The Troupe then erupted into small murmurs of conversations, and Kurapika could only make out a few phrases like ‘ _she’s got good intuition’,_ and ‘ _of course it was that fucking clown’._ Kurapika noticed for the first time where he was, lying on some sort of table inside of what must be a giant abandoned warehouse.  With a quick glance beyond some of the Troupe members Kurapika saw tons of artwork, technology, and the nicest furniture he’d ever seen; clearly stolen goods.

 

The boss silenced everyone by acting next.  He approached the table Kurapika was restrained on and leaned in until they were a couple inches apart, inspecting his face.  Kurapika was completely surprised, taking in the man’s handsome face in such close proximity.  The boss must have seen what he was looking for, and pulled away slightly.

  

“Take out your contacts,” he commanded.  _He noticed my contacts?!_ Kurapika was angered by the man’s keen observation.

 

“No.” Kurapika said, and the boss’s expression shifted to amusement.

 

“Guess we’ll have to do this the hard way.  Feitan,” he said expectantly.  Feitan’s eyes lit up again, maniacally.  He started reaching a hand down to Kurapika’s eyeball, and Kurapika filled with panic, giving in.

 

"NO! No, no need for that.  I'll do it myself," Kurapika cried.  His captors released their grip on his arms, and Kurapika removed the contacts, exposing his red eyes.  He tossed them on the floor.

 

"How interesting.  Red eyes.  They’re a rather daunting shade of scarlet.”  Chrollo seemed to contemplate to himself for a moment.  “Must be a genetic mutation,” he conjectured.  “Are you albino?" he asked as he looked back into the red orbs.  Kurapika said nothing, responding only with a silent glare.

 

The man’s contemplation was interrupted by Shalnark.  “Boss, it’s already 2,” Shalnark reminded him, looking up from his uPhone. 

 

“It is?  Well, I better get going then.  I’ll be back in a few hours.  Take Kurapika to the guest room.  If he tries to escape, kill him.”

 

Kurapika was then lifted off the table by Machi and Feitan, and escorted into one of the rooms.  Escorted meaning that he was pushed in as the door was shut behind him. 

 

As he looked around at the interior of the room, he guessed that there could be far worse places to live out the last moments of his life while the Troupe decided how they wanted to end him.  There was a king-sized bed with crisp, white sheets, a vanity, a flat screen TV, a rather substantial bookshelf, and a private bathroom. His headache was pounding now, worse than before, so he drank some water from the sink, sank down to the floor, and put his head between his knees, waiting for his judgement.

 

* * *

 

 

The sound of the door opening and closing made Kurapika lift his head.  It was followed by footsteps, that made Kurapika’s nerves start firing like bullets. 

 

The leader of the Troupe found Kurapika shortly after, sitting on the bathroom floor.  “Ah, there you are,” he said, extending a hand down towards Kurapika. 

 

Kurapika ignored the hand, choosing to stand up on his own.  After all, he’d at least choose to leave this world with some dignity.  The boss’s hand fell to his side.

 

“I’m Chrollo Lucilfer, by the way.  I’m afraid we didn’t get to have a proper introduction earlier.” Kurapika just stared at him.  How trivial that introduction seemed after all that had happened.

 

Chrollo continued speaking.  "Those are some nice eyes you got there, blondie." The voice was calm, composed, and silky smooth.

 

"Of course, you would think so.  I assume you've seen them more than I have."

 

"I don't believe I've ever seen eyes quite so captivating in my life.  Tell me blondie, are the rest of your family's eyes as magnificently iridescent as yours?"  

 

"You sick bastard.  You don't even remember, do you?"  

 

"Unfortunately, I'm in the dark on this one."

 

The rage bubbled up in Kurapika like an overfilled pot of boiling water.  He was livid, teeth clenched in utter disgust. 

 

"You... revolting... pieces... of shit," he choked out. "You murdered my entire tribe to harvest our eyes and you... YOU DON'T EVEN REMEMBER IT.  "

 

 _I'll fucking kill you, right here, right now.  I'll do it with my bare hands_.

His blood was pumping, ready to strike at any moment.

Kurapika watched as Chrollo's confused expression morphed into one of recognition, and it was enough to set him over the edge, as he rushed Chrollo with murderous intent.  

 

What Kurapika didn't expect was for Chrollo to be so fast.  

 

He threw quick punches to Chrollo’s stomach and windpipe, only to be met with swift blocks. His next plan of action was to knock Chrollo over with his legs Jiu-Jitsu style.  After all, he hadn't trained in Mixed Martial Arts for nothing.  However, it appeared Chrollo had trained too, and was one step ahead.  He anticipated Kurapika's move, and countered it, and before Kurapika knew it he was pinned on the floor, Chrollo's body hovering over his, his legs and arms held down by Chrollo's weight so he couldn't move.

 

"The Kurta clan.  I remember now.  Our old leader was quite the sadist.  Back in the day he and 4 other Spiders loved to hunt those type of treasures.  They would wander off by themselves, coming home with rare body parts from all kinds of people.  I always thought it was in poor taste.  Sadly for you blondie, you've come a few years too late.   I believe Uvo was the last of the four still around, and you already took care of him."  Chrollo eased off a little, and Kurapika lifted his head, still unable to move his legs.

 

"You've got good technique.  I can tell you're fast, skilled, and good at your job." He leaned forward and lifted pika's chin.  "And those eyes... well, I can see why they sold well on the black market.  They truly are exquisite." Chrollo's grey eyes bore into scarlet.  Kurapika was overwhelmed with conflicting emotions.  "The old boss and his flesh-hunting crew made some fatal mistakes.   The first and foremost was leaving survivors. He and two of the four were hunted down in '08, after recklessness had caused them to self-destruct.  They were caught off guard and killed by people like you, who also wanted vengeance.  Seems I'm still having to clean up his mess, after all these years.  I apologize for your suffering, we’ll have to see what we can do about that."

 

Kurapika blinked in confusion.  Why was he apologizing...? "You mean you’re not going to kill me?”

 

Chrollo tilted his head. "Why would I?  You'd obviously make a great addition to the team."

 

Kurapika scoffed.  “I just killed two of your members and you want me to join you?  Are you insane?”

 

“Around here we only have two rules.  The first is that internal disputes are solved with a coin flip. The second is if you kill a Troupe member, you become eligible to take their place.”

 

 "You’d let someone who killed your comrades join?  That’s barbaric.”

 

“Well, we can’t all spend our entire lives focused on the dead, blondie.”

 

Kurapika did not like that taunt one bit.  He glared fiercely at Chrollo.  “Don't fuck around.  I would never, ever choose to join this pathetic group of bandits you call a team."

 

"That's where you're wrong.  This isn't really a choice.  You might not join now, but someday you will.  And you'll want to, too.  You’ll remain here until you do." And with that, he left the room, leaving a bewildered and fuming Kurapika alone. 

 

Kurapika shot up from his spot on the ground and started pacing around the room, trying to blow off some steam.

 

His mind was all over the place.  He could barely process what had just happened to him.  His head still clouded with fiery rage; it felt as if his vision was tinted red.  He had fully expected to die, but instead he was left to himself, entirely alive.  What had that bastard even been on about?

 

 _Oh, right._ _He said he didn’t do it._

 

Kurapika couldn’t believe it. Or maybe, a part of him didn’t want it to be true. 

 

_Chrollo didn’t do it.  No one here did it._

 

Ever since he first came to YorkNew as a young teenager, and heard that his clan was hunted for their eyes, he’d only had two goals.  Avenge their deaths, and collect their eyes. 

 

But Chrollo didn’t do it.

 

_I already killed Uvogin, the last one._

 

Well, this wasn’t part of the plan.  Not at all.  In fact, Kurapika had never even considered this option before.  He became a police officer for the sole purpose of tracking down the people who killed his family.

 

He didn’t even get to be the one to avenge their deaths.  Although, the rational part of Kurapika’s brain knew it made sense.  Most of the troupe members couldn’t be more than 5 years older than him, which would have made them young teenagers when his family was massacred.  But how could he have anticipated this when he vowed to hunt them down?  Had his whole life since the massacre been for nothing? 

 

He inwardly cursed.  This was just his luck.  He’d never see the rest of the people who led the massacre, let alone kill them himself.  His vengeance was… over? That couldn’t be true…

 

He paused in front of the door, remembering the way Chrollo looked at him, the smugness in Shalnark’s voice, the way Feitan smirked as he pinned him down. _What kind of people are you?_

The adrenaline he’d had in his blood slowly wore off, and Kurapika was consumed with a crushing feeling of emptiness.  He felt hollow inside and out, and more alone than ever before.  His body was also fading fast, as exhaustion was finally catching up to him.  Tears welled up in the corner of his eyes as he stumbled over to the bed. 

 

He didn’t even take off his tie before he nearly collapsed on top of the mattress, letting darkness take over. 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

_When did I get so pitiful_  
_Just a goddamn corpse in a centerfold_  
_You got my back against the wall_  
_And now I can't ever get comfortable_  
_No, I never sold my soul_  
_If I ever do throw my bones to the wolves_  
_No, I never sold my soul_  
_No, I never sold mine_

Song: What’s Wrong - PVRIS

 

 

Kurapika was supine, lying on the luxury king-sized bed in the room they’d put him in.  He’d been staring at the ceiling for hours now, ever since he awoke at what he suspected was morning.  His brain running in circles, thinking over and over every possible outcome to his situation.  Surely, the best scenario would be to escape.  He could go back to the station and arrest them all.

 

But his room had no windows, and concrete walls.  The only other items in the room were a bookshelf and flat screen TV.  He was sure that the area outside his door was surrounded by Troupe members, who had orders to kill him if he tried to escape.  Kurapika knew he couldn’t take them down all at once, especially not if they fought anything like Chrollo did. So, leaving was not an option.

 

If he couldn’t leave, what else was there to do?  He remembered Chrollo’s offer to join the Troupe.  Their “system” for replacement.  Kurapika’s lips curled in utter disgust thinking about it.  These people must be truly evil savages, lacking respect for even the life of one of their own.  At that moment, Kurapika would rather die than join them.  The anger threatened to come all over again even thinking about it.

 

Kurapika had had two goals ever since he was put in foster-care as a young teenager in YorkNew.  Avenge his brethren, and collect their eyes.  Revenge, at this point, was a long-lost cause.  It felt as if vengeance itself had been taken from him, yet another thing killed before he got a chance to say goodbye.  This fact rang loudly in Kurapika’s mind, and made him feel hollow.

 

He was truly caught in the spider’s web.  He had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.  The only thing left to do was wait and pray for the web to unravel before the spider would eat him whole. 

 

He spent a while longer like this, brooding in silence, until he heard a pounding on the door, which jolted him up to sitting position.

 

“Hey kid, come out here,” a blonde troupe member wearing a tracksuit said while pushing Kurapika’s door open.  “You’re on TV.”

 

Kurapika sprung upwards, following the man into the living room area where the entirety of the Troupe, except Chrollo, were lounging on expensive-looking couches, chairs, or rugs.  Everyone’s eyes were glued to the flat screen television mounted on the concrete wall, save for the long-haired guy with the ponytail, who shot Kurapika a glare as he approached, making Kurapika come to an awkward stop by the sofa’s left side.  Track-suit-guy gestured to a chair, and Kurapika politely waved to decline the offer.   At that Track-suit shrugged, taking the chair for himself. 

 

Kurapika then followed everyone else’s gaze to the TV to see his police ID photo covering the right-hand side, and his eyes widened, darting up to read the text flashing on the top of the screen.

 

_Identified YNPD Policeman Commits Double Homicide at Met Gala, Goes Missing_

The news-anchor on the TV spoke, “After two security guards were found dead, Kurapika K, local YNPD officer was seen pointing a loaded gun at a collapsed body before running out of the building and essentially disappearing into thin air, as authorities are unable to locate the man.  A gala attendee was also later found dead in the stairwell with a stab wound and traces of pepper spray, likely also the doing of officer K.  Authorities are unsure if he killed both security guards, as a study on the wounds found suggest one of them killed the other before officer K stepped in as vigilante.  The city of Yorknew is still unsure of the whereabouts of officer K, and more updates will follow as the search continues…”

 

Kurapika’s mouth hung open in shock of the news, his heart rate increasing rapidly as the reality sunk in.  _This can’t be… this can’t…_ Kurapika felt the panic coming on, growing more suffocating by the second.  He’d fucked up, big time, and dug himself into a hole that left no path to crawl out of.  He squeezed his eyes shut as his teeth clenched tightly. 

 

There was low laughter growing from somewhere in the room.  “Ha! Our new little righteous pig’s gotten himself in a pickle!”

 

Another voice spoke out as Kurapika kept his eyes pressed tightly shut in an attempt to keep the tears back.  “Yeah, might as well get off your high horse now kid, cause it’s looking like you’re no better than us.” 

 

There was more laughter, loud and shrill now in Kurapika’s ears, smothering him.  He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe.  His eyes flew open, just to see everyone in the room staring at him with amused and mocking expressions. _I hate you all… I hate you all…_ was all Kurapika thought.

 

The small girl with the black hair spoke next, giggling. “Aww, he’s so upset.  The poor thing.”  And Kurapika couldn’t take it anymore, he was about to snap.  He darted back to the room and slammed the door, gasping for air. 

 

The guilt and panic were back full swing, like a weight crushing Kurapika’s lungs, a white noise rushing at deafening levels in his eardrums.  The difference was this time Kurapika had no outlet; there was no one to blame but himself.  It was too much, he couldn’t seem to process it.  

 

His trembling hand reached to pick up the TV remote and he turned it right back to the news channel, needing to see the rest… The two news anchors were now discussing his story. 

 

“It just seems odd to me, Chuck, that an officer with such a flawlessly clean record would do such a public act of terror.”

 

“I agree Rachel, and it was such a peculiar crime scene as well. The strangest part is that authorities are unable to identify the two victims Officer K is thought to have killed— actually the female security guard was found to not be employed at the Met at all.  No family members or associates of the victims have come forward with any other information.”

 

“It certainly seems like we don’t have the full story yet, and we’ll be tuning in, ready to report those details as they become available.”

 

Kurapika couldn’t tear his eyes away, and as he watched his emotions slowly turned from panic into a reflective, dejected state.  He saw the most frustrating witness-filmed footage of himself with his gun, frozen like a deer in headlights, before he had booked it out of the building.  He had acted impulsively, too recklessly, but after remembering the way the woman didn’t hesitate to kill the security guard, he decided that he had no regrets, other than not running fast enough to get away.

The buzz of his head and the TV kept Kurapika’s attention as his mental state grew worse, his mind growing numb.  There was no escape from the reality of his situation.  His feelings towards the Troupe burned in his chest like smoke.

  

* * *

 

 

Kurapika stayed like that, watching the news until he became tired.  The relentlessly analytical part of him had learned from the news that the Troupe was so underground, the police force couldn’t even identify their bodies.  Were they foreign, then?  But none of them had any hint of an accent.  Kurapika sighed and ran his hands through his hair, exasperated and mentally exhausted.  Not that any of this mattered anyway--the chances of him ever being in a position to use this information to his advantage were growing slimmer by the second. 

 

He made his way to the bathroom, tipping his head under the sink to drink a bit of water, before rinsing his face.  The situation he was in was very strange, he had nothing on him, just trapped in what was basically a gilded cage.  All things considered, he felt lucky the Troupe had left him alone; hopefully there wouldn’t be any more torture sessions today.

 

That bubble was burst as Kurapika heard a knock at his door.

 

He opened the door and there Chrollo stood with his infuriatingly symmetrical face, making Kurapika’s nerves spike. 

 

“Evening,” he said, advancing into the room with an arrogant sort of grace to his walk.

 

Kurapika hissed.  “What do you want?”

 

“Checking in.” He threw some pills, and what appeared to be bandages on the table nonchalantly.  “For your injuries,” he said.

 

Kurapika didn’t know whether to thank him for wanting to treat his injuries or tell him to piss off.  He decided to go with the latter.

 

“I don’t need your pithy mothering.”

 

“Oh?” Chrollo teased, sauntering over to where Kurapika stood his ground.  He lifted a hand and stroked the side of Kurapika’s face.  He froze in place as the sudden forwardness took him by surprise, but winced when Chrollo’s fingers touched a fresh cut on his cheek. “I wouldn’t want to see that pretty face impaired.”

 

The provocative nature of Chrollo’s comment forced Kurapika to come to his senses. He shoved the Troupe leader away from him, using as much force as he could. 

“Stay away from me,” Kurapika warned.

 

Chrollo looked surprised for a moment, then brushed his sleeves and smirked mischieviously.  “Fiesty tonight, aren’t we?”

 

In a split second, Chrollo had cornered Kurapika, and completely overtaken him.  He had Kurapika’s hands pinned above his head, with his back pressed flush against the wall.  _How did he move so fast?_  Chrollo’s smirk grew, and his eyes were dark, black voids boring into Kurapika.  Chrollo tilted his chin down, leaning in closer to Kurapika’s face.  The grip he had on Kurapika’s wrists was strong, too heavy for him to move.  As Kurapika felt Chrollo’s warm breath on his skin, and Chrollo’s hair tickling his forehead, his breathing stopped.  Daring to make eye contact, Kurapika tried his best to look stony despite the heat that was crawling up his neck and spilling on his cheeks.  

 

Kurapika felt uncomfortably powerless as Chrollo’s body loomed over him, close in a way he’d never experienced before that moment.  Chrollo was smiling thinly as he moved one hand to lift up Kurapika’s chin, and pressed their lips together in a gentle kiss.

 

Kurapika’s eyes widened as he felt Chrollo’s lips on his.  He couldn’t move and couldn’t think, frozen in time, heart racing.  Before Kurapika could react, just half a second later, Chrollo had already pulled away, assessing his reaction with a cold, thin smile. 

 

“Hmm, yes, blondie,” he started, watching a flustered, helpless Kurapika, “I’ll definitely have lots of fun with you.”

 

Kurapika tried to say something but no words came out.  Chrollo released his grip on Kurapika, heading back towards the door. 

 

“Goodnight blondie,” Chrollo said before exiting the room, looking back once more at Kurapika, who had yet to move from that spot on the wall.

 

When the door shut Kurapika sank down to the floor, collecting his thoughts.  Chrollo’s touch had had an undeniable power over him; his strength completely dominating.  Why couldn’t he push him away?  How did Chrollo get so strong, so fast?  Kurapika chuckled grimly to himself; how pitiful his life had become, how little control he had.  Not only was he wanted for murder, he was caged up like a prisoner, and now, apparently, he was going to be The Troupe leader’s new toy. 

 

His mind wandered to thoughts of Leorio, Gon, Killua.  They’d be together by now.  Once they heard the news, they’d definitely be hurt and angry.  Finding out your close friend is a murderer would make anyone feel disturbed.  Kurapika thought maybe escape didn’t sound like such a great option anymore, as his friends would certainly never be able to forgive him—At least, Kurapika knew he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he were in their shoes.  His mind went numb with loneliness as tears started to fall down his cheeks; yes, perhaps it was better this way, if he never saw them again.

 

As he recalled what the Troupe had said earlier,

 _“you’re no better than us, get off your high horse, pig,”_ Kurapika’s only consolation was that he knew they were wrong.  They had to be monsters, killing and stealing and using people as toys.  He swore to himself long ago he’d never sell his soul.  Whatever they did to his body was fine, but he thought, at that moment, that he would never sympathize with demons like them.

  

* * *

 

 

Killua was on Leorio’s couch, playing with his yo-yo.  He was trying to master a new trick he learned on the internet.  Gon sat on the other side of the couch, hunched over his sketchbook, drawing the skyline of YorkNew.  Leorio was in the kitchen, making sandwiches for the boys.  They’d go to the Thomasburg festival in a few hours, and were enjoying each other’s company until then, like old times. 

 

It was fall break, so Gon and Killua had a few days off of school to come visit the big city.  Leorio said he thought Kurapika was mad at him, because Kurapika hadn’t answered his calls or texts.  He was meant to be having fun and relaxing with them now. But Killua didn’t think that Kurapika was the type to back out on a promise to his friends, especially not over something petty. 

 

The TV was playing the news, thanks to Leorio and his boring old-man tastes.  Killua would rather be watching cartoons, but Leorio had fought him on it, lecturing Killua with something totally lame like ‘the news keeps you educated’ and ‘as a police officer it’s important to keep up with current events’ blah, blah, blah.  Killua had tuned out immediately.  _Whatever, old man._  

 

He looked up, about to ask what was taking so long with those sandwiches when he saw a familiar face on the screen.  He grabbed the remote from Gon’s side, turned up the volume and then hit Gon on the shoulder several times.

 

“Oww Killua! That hurts!” he whined.

 

“Dude, that’s Kurapika,” Killua said, pointing at the screen.  “Old man, get in here!  Kurapika’s on the news!”

 

Leorio pulled off his apron, and came running from the kitchen.  As they listened to the news anchor Killua saw Gon got visibly tense, eyes hardening.  He looked back to Leorio to see a similar expression on his face.

 

“I don’t… believe this…” Leorio said, hands clenching into fists.

 

“Kurapika would never do something like this!” Gon exclaimed.

 

“He went missing too,” Killua added, shaking his head.  “None of this story sounds like Kurapika.”

 

“We have to find him! We have to save him! This story is absolute bullshit!” Gon said, livid.  Killua couldn’t help but admire how quickly Gon decided to help; how he was always there for his friends, assuming the best in them.

 

“Yeah, it’s bullshit alright,” Leorio agreed, his voice now a low grumble, “we’re definitely going to find him and clear his name.  Come on, let’s get ready to go.  We’ve got no time to lose.”

 

The boys nodded in agreement, jumping to their feet.

 

 


	4. Dominance and Helplessness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh my blood
> 
> Once was my own
> 
> But in one touch
> 
> You made it yours
> 
> What have you done?
> 
> What have you done?
> 
> Oh, my poor bones
> 
> Rearrange them to fit your mold
> 
> Hang me up on your bedroom wall
> 
> Now I can't breathe at all
> 
>  Song: Anyone Else –PVRIS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *clears throat* Ahem. Well. This is awkward. So... Do you guys watch Game of Thrones? If you do, do you remember what happened with Danaerys and Khal Drogo? Specifically, the way they fell in love? Well, that's kinda the type of vibe we're going for here. This chapter contains some serious dubious consent, if not just straight up non-con. If you're ok with that, then read on ahead :)

The next morning the smell of fresh bacon wafted under Kurapika’s nose, waking him up.  He sat up, rubbing his eyes and turned towards the smell.  On his nightstand laid a tray with a full breakfast, including pancakes, bacon, eggs, and juice.  He walked over to the nightstand and saw a note attached to the tray.

 

_Thought you might be hungry.  Also, I left some clothes and a towel on the vanity.  There’s soap stocked in the bathroom, you might want to shower.  -Chrollo_

 

Kurapika scoffed reading the note, like he would accept anything from that asshole.  But as the bacon smell hit his nose again his stomach let out a low grumble, and he thought well, maybe some food wouldn’t hurt.  After all, he hadn’t eaten in over 48 hours.  The food was absolutely delicious—Kurapika wondered if Chrollo had made it himself.  After some thought he concluded that no, there was no way Chrollo spent time on menial tasks such as cooking.   

 

After the food was in Kurapika’s belly the heavenly smell of bacon was replaced by his body odor, and Kurapika realized that a shower was actually appropriate.  He grabbed the towel and made his way over to the spacious tiled shower with glass doors.  The water was warm and inviting, a harsh contrast to everything he’d felt through the past few days.

 

When his shower was over he decided to check out the clothes Chrollo had left on the vanity.   The long-sleeved shirt was a cream color, and the texture was soft and smooth.  Chrollo had also left a pair of underwear and dark grey joggers.  He pulled the clothes onto his body, realizing that although the clothes were simple, their quality suggested they were expensive.  The material felt smooth against his skin, the fit was exact.  When had Chrollo acquired these...?  Kurapika would have never be able to afford clothes like these on his police salary—hell, he spent over half his money on rent in Thomasburg. 

 

He tried, unsuccessfully, to stave off the intrusive thoughts of panic and anxiety that threatened to overtake him again, as the haze from sleep and the shower wore off and reality sunk in.  Kurapika grabbed the TV remote and turned on the news, taking a seat on the bed.  He didn’t really feel like doing anything else, and he sure as hell wasn’t about to test the waters outside of his room. 

 

* * *

 

 

That night, Kurapika’s brooding was interrupted by a gentle rapping on his door.  Remembering what had happened last night, he chose not to answer it, clinging to a thread of hope that if he ignored his problems they might leave him alone.

 

A few moments later the door opened anyway, and Kurapika’s heart started racing as Chrollo entered wearing a button-down shirt with dark trousers.  His dark hair was down, framing his face, falling just above his shoulders. 

 

“Hello, red,” he said, coming to stand by the bedside. 

 

“Red?” Kurapika asked incredulously. “What happened to _blondie?_ ” Kurapika rose from the bedside, moving to stand on the opposite side as Chrollo.

 

Chrollo shrugged.  “Your Kurta eyes.  But we can go with blondie if you like that better.”

 

Kurapika looked away, folding his arms.  “Whatever. I don’t care.”

 

Chrollo chuckled lightly.  “Your preference is clear—blondie it is.  Nice outfit, by the way.”

 

Kurapika continued to look away, responding with silence. 

 

“So, then, _blondie_ ,” Chrollo started, voice suddenly playful, “do you prefer the bed or the bathroom?” he asked, beginning to pace around the room as if inspecting it.

 

“What are you talking about?” Kurapika snapped, turning to look at the older man.

 

“For our first time, of course,” Chrollo said, coming to a stop with a smirk dancing on his lips.

 

Kurapika swallowed thickly.  Chrollo couldn’t possibly mean… but meeting Chrollo’s eyes he saw that the older man was looking him up and down with fervor, suggesting that yes, that was exactly what he meant.  Kurapika’s heart started racing as Chrollo approached, and the blonde man took a few steps backward, until he hit the wall.  He had to stop this, had to do _something…_ At a loss for any other action, he tried throwing a roundhouse kick to Chrollo’s side.

 

Naturally, Chrollo caught his shin as it came around, and pushed it down on the floor as he cornered Kurapika.  Chrollo’s face was now an inch away from Kurapika’s, making the smaller blonde take in all of his features again, from his sharp jawline to the dark hair framing his face to his mesmerizing irises that stared at him in a way he’d never experienced before.  And oh, god, Kurapika could _smell his cologne_ now as Chrollo’s arm wrapped around him, hand resting on the small of his back…

 

“So what’ll it be?” Chrollo said, voice low and raspy in Kurapika’s ear, “The bathroom?” he paused for a moment, eyes flickering. “… or the bed?”

 

“I don’t…” Kurapika tried, voice coming out far breathier than he would’ve liked.  He was blushing furiously, and trying to look anywhere but Chrollo’s eyes.  They were voids that sucked in all his coherent thoughts like a vacuum.  He had to come to his senses, this was the leader of the Phantom Troupe after all.  He squirmed, trying to release himself from Chrollo’s strong grip, only to be pushed back onto the wall, overwhelmed by Chrollo’s complete dominance.

 

“Personally, I’d prefer the bed.  I think it’ll be easier on your body.” Chrollo’s eyes flicked to the side for a second, then moved back to look at Kurapika with hunger. “So, if you don’t have a preference, then…” he pulled Kurapika in closer, so their chests were touching.  In one swift motion, he grabbed underneath Kurapika’s ass and lifted him up, carrying him onto the mattress.  Kurapika was taken by surprise at how easily Chrollo lifted him, plopping him onto the mattress like someone might handle a kitten.

 

Chrollo undid the top few buttons of his shirt next, exposing his toned chest.  As Chrollo adjusted himself Kurapika tried to escape, eyes on the bathroom.  Maybe he could make it inside and lock the door.  Chrollo, however, was not about to let that happen.  He started to lean over Kurapika, and pushed his shoulders back onto the mattress, making him lie flat on his back.  Kurapika’s breath hitched, taking in Chrollo’s proximity and bare chest and he forced himself to say something, to remember what exactly the implications of this situation were…

 

“No… please… I…” he started to squirm, but Chrollo put a finger over his lips and held him down.

 

“Shh… Blondie.  You’re mine now.  I took you, like the thief I am,” he said, and then leaned in to close the distance between their lips.  Chrollo’s lips felt warm, gentle, and inviting pressed against his.  Kurapika’s eyes fluttered shut, just for a moment, until his brain jolted.  What was he _doing_?  This was a fucking spider for Christ’s sake!  His eyes flashed open in anger.  He was _not_ Chrollo’s.

 

Chrollo pulled away sharply, expression flicking in annoyance.  “Did you just bite me, blondie?”  Kurapika smirked, satisfied with being able to fight back just a little before his body succumbed completely to Chrollo’s dominance.

 

Kurapika’s small victory didn’t last long.  Chrollo unbuttoned Kurapika’s jeans and in one fluid motion forcefully grabbed his crotch over his underwear.  A chill ran down Kurapika’s spine and he gasped for air, hating the way his member was hardening at the touch.  As Chrollo started to rub up and down over the fabric, Kurapika’s body betrayed his rational mind, his pelvis thrusting upward slightly against the friction. 

 

The motion did not go unnoticed by Chrollo, whose eyes filled with what could only be described as lust and desire at Kurapika’s reaction.  He then undid the rest of the buttons on his shirt, and if Kurapika wasn’t completely hard before, seeing Chrollo’s chiseled abs took him the rest of the way to a full erection.  Chrollo unbuttoned his pants next, exposing a thick bulge.  Kurapika gulped.  The older man placed himself over Kurapika once more so their foreheads were touching, one hand placed over Kurapika’s head to prop him up and the other wrapped around Kurapika’s waist.  He simultaneously pressed his hips forward and lifted Kurapika’s back to an arch, pushing their erections together.  A small noise escaped Kurapika’s lips, despite his attempts to resist revealing how much control Chrollo had over him.  The noise was silenced by another kiss, except this time a tongue entered his mouth: probing, wet, and hot.  Kurapika let himself take in the taste of Chrollo, like mint and vanilla, not really knowing how to respond.  He’d never admit it, but he’d never actually kissed anyone before Chrollo, and the feeling was new and daunting. Their tongues swirled together under Chrollo’s lead, before he pulled away again, leaving both of them gasping for air.  The next rock of Chrollo’s hips sent a wave of pleasure through Kurapika, and he felt a bit of pre-cum drip onto his skin. 

 

“You’re inexperienced,” Chrollo mused, voice breathy and low.  “Explains why you’re so on edge.”  Kurapika narrowed his eyes, momentarily relapsing into sanity as he began to struggle away from Chrollo’s grip again, unsuccessfully.

 

“Maybe I’m so on edge because I’ve fallen into the clutches of a perverted freak,” he retorted, looking away with shame and embarrassment.

 

Chrollo smirked.  “Don’t worry, it won’t hurt too badly, but you might be sore after,” he said. Kurapika’s eyes widened again as the full extent of what Chrollo intended to do sank in.  Chrollo started moving again, this time kissing the sensitive flesh of Kurapika’s neck as he grinded his hips down again.  Kurapika couldn’t help but gasp at the new sensations running through his body, throwing his head back against the fabric of the sheets. 

 

Chrollo lifted Kurapika’s shirt off his head, then pulled off Kurapika’s pants and underwear, rendering him completely naked and exposed, lying underneath Chrollo.  He then removed his shirt and pants fully, but kept his underwear on.  His hands started rubbing up and down Kurapika’s thighs, teasing, before they moved around to grab his ass, giving a tight squeeze.  He flipped Kurapika over, so he was on all fours, and spread his cheeks wide, before he leaned down in between them.  Chrollo reached a hand around and grabbed Kurapika’s erection as he gathered up spit in his mouth, before letting some fall, landing on Kurapika’s rim.  Kurapika’s nerves were on fire, but the pressure on his erection relaxed him as Chrollo’s breath tickled his wet entrance.  He felt Chrollo’s tongue circling his hole, first going slow, but then speeding up, licking the entire thing in one go.  The sensation was strange, but not bad.  Chrollo’s tongue began to narrow, adding more pressure to his entrance.  He then felt a strong pressure filling him all at once and looked backwards to see what had just happened.  Chrollo had slipped one finger inside, letting Kurapika get used to the feeling of being filled before moving around, probing the interior until he hit a spot that made Kurapika let out an uncharacteristically loud moan.

 

“Ah… Chrollo… I…” he breathed, arching his back like a cat. 

 

“I think you’re ready now.” Chrollo flipped Kurapika back over into supine position and slipped off his own underwear, revealing his large, hard cock.  Kurapika couldn’t help but gape, mouth hanging open as Chrollo lifted up Kurapika’s legs, wrapping them around his torso.  He slowly pushed his tip into Kurapika who elicited a sharp intake of breath as the pressure grew on his hole.  Chrollo slowly pushed farther inside, filling Kurapika up completely.  The boy grit his teeth, trying not to let any noise come out as Chrollo started to move with slow, calculated thrusts.

 

The sensation was more intense than anything Kurapika had ever felt. He held his breath and bit his lips to keep from crying out every time Chrollo pounded into him.  Losing all inhibitions, he grabbed Chrollo’s thigh just above his knee, holding tightly.  A moan escaped his lips as Chrollo’s dick hit his prostate, sending a shudder through his spine.  The pleasure was coming harder, faster, and Kurapika had to close his eyes.

 

Chrollo leaned forward to press his lips against Kurapika’s in a light kiss, setting Kurapika over the edge.   White hot pleasure overtook him and he couldn’t breathe, as his orgasm shot spurts of cum up his stomach.  Chrollo’s thrusts grew erratic, pulsing faster and faster until he came inside of Kurapika.

 

As the pleasure faded from Kurapika’s body, it was replaced by a crushing guilt.  Kurapika thought of his clan, his friends; if they could see him now, see what he’d done, they’d burn him at the stake.  A single tear slid down his cheek and he closed his eyes again, wishing he could will his sins away. 

 

Chrollo brushed a finger over his tear, wiping it away.  “Don’t cry,” he said as he pulled out of Kurapika. “It doesn’t suit you.”

 

He quickly found his clothes, pulling them over his body, and walked towards the door.  “Goodnight,” he said coldly, and shut the door. 

 

* * *

  

_Don't need to speak_  
_I think we've had enough of each other_  
_Don't make it worse_  
_All we did, all we did was suffer_  
_You were just physical touch, not necessarily love_  
_Just something to distract my aching brain for once_  
_I feel too little and I think too much_

Song: Winter –PVRIS

 

The next time Chrollo came for him, Kurapika didn’t try to resist. 

 

Kurapika let him lift off his clothes, and be pulled tight against Chrollo’s firm body.  He let himself drown in the scent and gentle touch of this mysterious man; let himself forget the dark reality of his situation, if only for a moment.

 

As the days passed, Chrollo would come about every other night, waltzing in and out of his life like a regular customer, as if Kurapika’s room was his restaurant to dine in.  The gifts and meals he left didn’t stop either.  Every day a different Troupe member would drop off food, and every morning there’d be a new item waiting on Kurapika’s vanity.  The only time a Troupe member had spoken to him when dropping off food had been Nobunaga, grumbling about having to ‘feed boss’s pet’. The gift usually was designer clothes, as if Chrollo was building up an entire wardrobe of clothes he wanted to see Kurapika wear.  

It wasn’t until the third time Chrollo came that Kurapika noticed the spider tattoo, placed between his shoulder blades on his back with the number 0.  Kurapika blinked as he realized: Chrollo must have never had his back turned before when he was undressed.  The tattoo –the spider with twelve legs-- served as a harsh reminder that indeed, he was sleeping with his enemy; living out his worst nightmare.

 

The only thing worse than being Chrollo’s bitch was the crushing guilt and emptiness that took over when Chrollo left him.  The nights sleeping alone after Chrollo’s visits were always the hardest; his body would be sore, aching with chills, and his mind would race with guilt, hating how easy it was to succumb to pleasure--how enjoyable Chrollo’s cold touch could be.  Although Kurapika resented the man for leaving him alone all the time, the times of contact became a welcome distraction, as Kurapika all but lost his sense of direction.

 

The news channel became his only remaining tie to the world, telling him the date, time, and current events.  Five days turned into seven, one week turned into two.  It became apparent from the bits of conversations he could overhear outside his door that the Troupe participated in far more activity than he originally thought.  It wouldn’t be possible to acquire the ridiculous amounts of luxury goods that filled the hideout if they only stole when the left their graffiti mark.  They also seemed to break up into smaller groups, a few of them doing small heists a week while the rest stayed at the hideout.  It was actually a smart move, Kurapika thought, to have maximum activity but go anonymous most of the time.

 

Kurapika’s curiosity began to grow about the apathetic characters that composed the Phantom Troupe.  Really, who were these people?  When did they come here, where were they from, and how did they pull off the stunts they did?  He wondered what happened in each of their lives to make them resign themselves to lives of monstrous, criminal acts.  He wondered if they had ever had souls, or if they had been extracted straight from hell to ruin Kurapika’s life.  But one question persisted above them all, as Kurapika remembered what exactly put him here in the first place: _who the ever-living fuck was this Hisoka guy?_

 

The seventh time Chrollo came, Kurapika decided to test his luck. 

 

“Who’s Hisoka?” he asked, as Chrollo was about to leave.  He slid off the bed, moving to stand in front of Chrollo as he pulled his shirt over his head.  “And why would he want to contact me?”

 

Chrollo blinked, taken aback by the sudden question.  The two usually didn’t talk much when Chrollo visited, so Kurapika’s outburst came as a surprise to the older man.

 

“Why the sudden interest, blondie?” Chrollo teased, “have you reconsidered my offer?”

 

Kurapika glowered.  “No. I’m just curious about why an ex member would want to sell you out to a revenge seeker like myself.”

 

Chrollo sighed, and contemplated for a moment before he spoke.  “Hisoka is a strange man.  One day Hansel’s missing, and this clown guy with crazy eyes shows up at our base holding his dead body, saying he’s earned the right to be our newest member.  I had him spar with Nobunaga to prove he’d be able to keep up with us, and he won, knocking Nobu out.  So I let him join, and then his… his unusual side started to show.  He always seemed to do his own thing, having his own motives.  Of course, everyone has their own reasons for joining, so I didn’t mind.  But then one day when everyone else was out on a heist he rushed me, demanding to fight. He…” Chrollo internally grimaced, remembering the way Hisoka had licked his lips and called him a deliciously sexy target.  “Well, let’s just say he seems to get off fighting skilled fighters.  He said that he’d only joined because he heard I was one of the few worthy opponents in the city.” Chrollo looked towards the wall pensively.

 

Kurapika nodded, taking in the information, until he realized Chrollo had stopped speaking.  “Well, what happened next?  Did you win?”

 

Chrollo looked back into Kurapika’s eyes with a smirk.  “Obviously,” he said, as if stating that the sky was blue.  “After I knocked him unconscious I threw him out on the street, and walked away.  He really was a nuisance.  Although it seems now he’s concocting up a plan.”

 

“What do you think he wants?”

 

“Not sure.  Maybe he wants a rematch. Although, I won’t be as merciful this time,” Chrollo said, eyes darkening.

 

“Are you…” Kurapika started to ask.

 

“That’s enough questions for tonight, blondie,” Chrollo cut him off, heading towards the door.  “I’ve got business to attend to.”

 

“You mean criminal activity,” Kurapika quipped, getting frustrated with Chrollo’s cold attitude. 

Chrollo just left, giving a slight wave as he shut the door.  Kurapika clenched his fist in anger, before turning to go to the shower.  Why did Chrollo think he could mess with him like this?  That it was okay to just waltz right out in the middle of a conversation?  _Oh, that’s right, I’m just his helpless toy._ He turned on the water and stepped inside, knowing that although he could wash off Chrollo’s scent, he couldn’t wash away the effect Chrollo had on him, and he definitely couldn’t wash away the memories of what he’d done.  Sometimes he wished the Troupe had killed him after all.  He’d lost his clan, his friends, his job, and his dignity.  He slammed his fist against the wall forcing the emptiness to take over his brain, numbing him again.

 


	5. Let's Get Information

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm at a loss for words under a full moon
> 
> Staring at the ceiling of a white room
> 
> Does the mirror in the corner see my shame too?
> 
> Or a different view?
> 
> On the porch the ceiling's painted baby blue
> 
> Dressed to the nines just like the sky in early afternoon
> 
> 'Cause its midnight and the ghosts might be coming soon
> 
> Song: Nola 1- PVRIS

As the dark-haired man lifted Kurapika up, pulling out of him, Kurapika decided now was as good of a time as any to talk.  “Chrollo,” he breathed, as he tugged the Spider’s wet hair backwards to look at his face. 

 

“Hmm?” Chrollo’s voice was low and he closed his eyes, enjoying the warm water as it sprinkled onto his skin.  Chrollo had insisted on _the bathroom_ this time around, and the two stood tangled up together in the shower, post-intercourse.

 

“How old are you?” 

 

Chrollo’s eyes opened to look at Kurapika. “How about an answer for an answer? I have a question for you as well.”

 

Kurapika contemplated for a moment, before deciding that overall it was a pretty low risk trade. “Deal.”

 

“Then, I’m 27.” 

 

 _He’s only four years older than me_ , Kurapika thought in surprise.  

 

Chrollo spoke again, taking his attention. “Your turn.  What did Hisoka require in exchange for telling you our location?”

 

Memories of that strange, windy, and cursed day in Park Central came flooding back in a wave.  The stilt in that Clown’s walk; the way he licked his lips at Kurapika; the lie Kurapika had told Leorio.  Kurapika stifled a shudder before he said, “he just wanted this police substance from the eighties. It’s called Bungee Gum.”

 

“Bungee Gum...” Chrollo repeated, a thoughtful look on his face. “I can’t say I’ve heard of it.”

 

“Yeah, it’s pretty obscure and outdated. It didn’t really catch on in the force. Hisoka said he needed it for an ‘experiment’, whatever that means,” Kurapika said, hands shaping into air quotes.

 

“I see,” Chrollo said, pulling Kurapika against him and lightly combing his fingers through his golden hair, which had turned more of a light brown after it was drenched with water.  Kurapika looked over Chrollo’s shoulder to see that the shower’s glass walls were now opaque with steam, creating a small enclosure around the two men. 

 

Kurapika was suddenly intimidated by the tight space.  He still needed to find out more, so he decided to ask another question he’d been thinking about.

 

“Why did you get this?” he asked as he poked Chrollo in the forehead, where the black ink formed a permanent mark on his skin. “It’s Saint Peter’s cross, right?”

 

Chrollo pulled back slightly and blinked in surprise, allowing hot water to fall in between their naked chests.  He raised an eyebrow at Kurapika. “You’re correct, it is Saint Peter’s cross.” He paused, then his lips danced upward into a mischievous smile.  “Let’s make a deal.  I’ll tell you about the cross if you’ll tell me what your deal is with chains.  My friends found quite a few of them on you that night.”

 

Kurapika’s eyes widened.  He had not been expecting that question at all.  He looked away blankly, not really knowing the answer himself.  God, why did Chrollo have to call him out like this? At that moment, he thought that he’d rather Chrollo have him tortured by Feitan again than have to answer this question.  He wracked his brain for an explanation anyway, wanting to satiate his curiosity about the cross tattoo.  Chains... chains... why exactly did he like them so much? 

 

Kurapika turned back, looking Chrollo straight in the eyes. “I guess I like the symbolism.  There’s a lot of evil in this world that needs to be chained down to hell.”

 

Chrollo’s eyes sparkled with amusement at Kurapika’s answer, and he threw his head back, laughing.  “Sounds about right.”

 

Kurapika blushed and looked away, realizing how stupid he just sounded.  “Well? What’s your thing then?” He pushed against Chrollo’s bare shoulder making him step backwards out of the shower-head’s reach.  With Chrollo out of the way Kurapika moved to stand in the middle of the shower, hogging the whole thing.  Ah, much better. 

 

Chrollo moved back in immediately, wrapping his arms around Kurapika’s waist. “I got this tattoo for similar reasons. I liked the symbolism.” 

 

Now it was Kurapika’s turn to laugh.  “You mean to tell me that you got a tattoo because you think you’re not worthy of the same death as Jesus?  Really?”  Chrollo was literally the last person Kurapika expected to be religious, let alone have a tattoo of a religious symbol that represented submission and humility. 

 

Chrollo tangled a hand through Kurapika’s wet hair. “Although that is the origin of the cross, over time the meaning has evolved into more of an anti-establishment symbol.”  His face turned pensive in thought.  “Consider it a subtle boycott of traditional institutions.”

 

As someone who worked for the government and grew up wearing traditional tribal clothing, Kurapika felt the need to ask: “And what, exactly, have these institutions done to you?”

 

Chrollo sighed dejectedly, looking away. “Ah blondie.  It’s easy to overlook corruption when you’ve always been in society’s good graces, and it’s easy to hold to traditions when you’ve never witnessed the harm they can cause.”

 

Kurapika’s narrowed his eyes at Chrollo’s cryptic answer. “Don’t patronize me,” he said. 

 

Chrollo didn’t respond. Instead, he stepped out of the water and shook his hair once, before reaching for a towel and exiting the shower. “I should get going.” 

 

Although his fingers were pruning, Kurapika stayed in the shower until Chrollo left, pretending not to care that he’d just been dismissed and walked out on, again. Chrollo could be so infuriating, yet so charming that Kurapika would almost forget the villain he really was, and even enjoy his company sometimes.  That is, until he would say something that completely went against everything Kurapika had ever known and valued, making Chrollo’s gentlemanly facade come crumbling down in his face. 

 

Kurapika finally turned off the shower and dried off.  As the steam disappeared from the mirror, Kurapika locked eyes with an angry face—an indicator that he should probably try to calm down. He took a deep breath and slipped on a T-shirt and some sweatpants, making his way to the bed.  Before he fell asleep he wondered what happened in Chrollo’s life to make him hate the government and traditions so much.  The government had given Kurapika a home, a job, and had helped him when he had lost everything. Similarly, throughout his life, the Kurta traditional rituals and clothing had helped him feel connected to his lost brethren, and had enabled him to hold on to the memories of his old life. Maybe Chrollo was indoctrinated from a young age to hate society?  Or was all of that a lie, and Chrollo was just messing with his head?  Either way, Kurapika was determined to find out. 

 

* * *

 

 

There were two chains left on his vanity, next to a small box when Kurapika woke up.  This time, with a note that said:

 

_Here’s your old chain.  Also, I found these other items yesterday, and thought you might like them. -Chrollo_

 

Kurapika fought back a smile as he read the note—he was just a little bit too happy to have his chains back.  The new accessory Chrollo had given him was nice and simple. It was a plain silver chain, with two hooks on either end.  He hooked it onto his belt loop, trying it out.  As he observed the chain’s bottom grazing his mid-thigh, he couldn’t help it anymore—his lips turned up into a soft smile.  He then decided to open the small velvet box, which contained a small silver chain-link earring that had a red gem dangling from it. 

 

 _Huh_ , he thought. Chrollo must have noticed the holes in his earlobe at some point, left from when he had gotten into earrings in high school.  How was this man so incredibly observant?

 

As he put on the earring in front of the mirror, the gem glinted and refracted from the vanity light. The color popped with so much of a dense, scarlet hue that the gem couldn’t simply be made out of plastic or glass.  Indeed, Kurapika deduced it must be either a ruby or a diamond.  Kurapika shook his head lightly from side to side, admiring the way the earring sparkled as it swung around his face.  His moment was interrupted as he heard a knock at his door.  “One second!” he said as he went to go open it.  

 

Shalnark stood holding a tray of food. “Hey Pika! Good morning!” He exclaimed with a smile as he walked in.  “You must be hungry!  How’s it going?” 

 

Kurapika blinked, taken aback at this new friendly greeting.  “Pika...?” he mumbled, as the image of a certain tall policeman with tiny glasses flashed into his brain.  

 

“Pika, you know, like Kurapika, but only the last part. I thought of it myself today,” he said while putting his hands on his hips, making him look like a proud toddler.  Kurapika wasn’t about to burst his bubble with the fact that he’d had that nickname for a while.  Shalnark then looked around at Kurapika’s room, inspecting.  “You must be getting so bored in here! You know, you can come out into the main area of the warehouse anytime you’d like.” 

 

Kurapika’s jaw threatened to drop at the sudden invitation.  Not one of the Troupe members besides Chrollo had ever really spoken to him before, let alone been _nice_ to him.  Didn’t Shalnark hate him for killing his friends? “Um... alright... I’ll think about it,” Kurapika said nervously, not yet trusting the sudden niceties.  

 

“Sweet! Well anyway, this food is really good!  We’ve got breakfast burritos today, with fresh salsa, orange juice, and a homemade latte.”  Shalnark set the tray down on Kurapika’s vanity and leaned against the side as he spoke.  Kurapika thought that his bubblegum pink outfit, bowl-cut-blonde hair, and bright blue eyes made him seem innocent and endearing—a stark contrast to everything his life had been lately.

 

“... Thanks,” Kurapika said hesitantly. He shifted awkwardly, moving forward to grab the latte as Shalnark took out his phone.  Kurapika couldn’t help but gape in awe as he saw the device in his hands.  “Wait... is that the uPhone Z?” he heard himself ask impulsively.

 

Shalnark looked up from the screen, beaming.  “It sure is! Wanna see?” He asked, holding the phone out to Kurapika.

 

As Kurapika held the phone in his hands, his mouth still agape in disbelief.  The phone was completely black on the front, and the entirety of it lit up with the time and date when he pressed the side button. “I thought this wasn’t meant to come out for another month,” he said, as he inspected all sides of the device.

 

“It isn’t,” Shalnark said, as he cheekily winked at Kurapika. 

 

“Ah, right.” Kurapika’s voice was small, as he figured out what Shalnark was implying. His innocent appearance made it all too easy to forget just how skilled of a thief he must be. Shalnark leaned over to look at the phone with Kurapika and started to show him how to use it.  His voice was cheerful and passionate as he talked about all of the ‘super neat stuff’ (his words) the uPhone Z was capable of.

 

“And if you swipe two fingers to the left you’ll see all your news stories,” he continued, demonstrating with his hand.  Kurapika tried the gesture out himself.  

 

“Cool,” he heard himself breathe out as the phone’s entire front displayed colorful screens.  

 

“Isn’t it?  There’s so much it can do, I love it!” Shalnark’s excited voice and big smile held nothing but sincerity.  Kurapika did not know what to make of it.  When he handed the phone back to Shalnark, he couldn’t hold back his curiosity anymore, and let his bluntness take over. 

 

“Why are you being so nice?” he asked, tone coming out slightly harsher than he’d meant to.  He tried to soften it a bit.  “I mean… were you not very close to Uvogin or Pakunoda?” 

 

Shalnark face looked confused for a moment, before he realized why Kurapika was asking.  “Oh... it’s not that I or anyone else weren’t close to them.  Actually, we all were pretty shaken by their deaths.  But Boss always says the most important thing is that the Spider keeps moving, regardless of who the makes up the legs or head.  So, if you’re going to be the next member, we’re going to have to learn to work together anyway.  Most of us don’t hold grudges, and besides, it seems Boss has taken quite a liking to you—I’m sure not without good reason.”

 

Kurapika scoffed at that.  Sure, Chrollo had ‘taken a liking to him’.  The same way someone might like a pet dog.  Despite this fact, a slight stir tickled Kurapika’s chest at Shalnark’s kindness—he had to admit he was grateful to have a friendly, light-hearted conversation after all these weeks alone.

 

“Also,” Shalnark continued, “if you get bored you should check out the bookshelf.  Boss actually has great taste in books.” 

 

With a quick glance back to the bookshelf, Kurapika nodded.  He did enjoy books, but hadn’t really been in the mood to read lately.  “Alright,” he said.  Kurapika drank a sip of the latte as Shalnark lingered on his phone. “Hey, Shalnark?”

 

Shalnark looked up.  “What’s up?”

 

“I’ve been wondering why exactly you choose to leave the Spider mark on some heists.  What is the statement you are trying to make?”

 

Shalnark’s grin immediately dropped, expression becoming detached.  It reminded Kurapika of an expression he saw frequently on Chrollo.  “I wouldn’t expect you to understand at this point, as an ex-cop.  You’re still too deep in the system—in their values.  But, for now, the short answer is we want to disrupt and harm that system, and we want them to know it was us.”

 

Why was Kurapika always met with condescending, vague answers?  As if they thought he couldn’t handle whatever their real motivations were.  He stared directly at Shalnark, mouth curling into a frustrated frown.  He wanted to press for more, but before he could Shalnark’s expression turned back to a carefree smile, and with a glance at his phone he said “Oh, I gotta go now!  Nice talking to you Pika!” as he left the room.

 

* * *

  

The ceiling of Kurapika’s room became a dull surface to look at, as he lay on the large mattress.  Out of habit, he reached for the remote, but then stopped—his hand falling back down—thinking the better of it.  He decided that today he didn’t want to numb his brain again with the droning, generic voices of news anchors—not even if they mentioned his pending court case.  Instead, rising from the bed, he moved towards the bookshelf that sat looming in the corner. 

 

As he scanned the rows of books he noticed some of his favorites—Stevon Kingly, Joanna Austin, and even Shakespeare—their edges worn with usage.  With his lips curling upwards, Kurapika concluded that indeed, Chrollo did have good taste in books.  His eye was drawn to one book in particular, whose author he had never heard of.  The cover was simple, the font plain.  The title read: 

 

_Meteor: The Forgotten City_

 

Intrigued, the blonde opened the book to the first page.  

 

_Introduction:_

_What you’re about to read is 100% accurate.  I’m about to tell you the dark, sad truth that has been hiding underneath our ‘free’ society all along.  It’s what the Bourgeoisie, the Big Corporations, and the Government don’t want you to know.  I suggest you read quickly, before every copey of this book is confiscated and burned.  My name is Marcus DeLucio, and this is my story._

Kurapika sighed, rolling his eyes.  What a cheesy start to a chapter book.  There was even a typo in the third sentence.  If Chrollo genuinely thought books with this kind of writing were good, then maybe he didn’t have such great taste after all.   Nonetheless, Kurapika was bored, and decided to give this book the benefit of the doubt.  He took the book back with him to the bed, and turned the page.

 

_Do you remember the worker’s rights act?  What about the clean air act?  Or what about way back in the day when child labor laws were invented?  Surely, if nothing else, you remember when slavery was abolished?_

_Well, I didn’t.  Have you ever wondered how the biggest chain stores are always so cheap?  How they wipe out competition with ease?  What if I told you that there was a still a city, right here in Amerika, where the biggest and greediest corporations made a deal with the government to keep as their secret personal hellscape, exempt from civil rights laws?  In fact, this place exists, and it’s called Meteor City._

_The citizens of Meteor City are some of the most unfortunate on the planet.  They live as little more than slaves, confined to work in dark, unsafe factories from the young age of only 4 years old.  The streets are covered with trash and rubbish, and the air is a heavy, grey, polluted cloud.  Law enforcement as we know it is non-existent, there are only corporate flunkies who force the citizens to work and dish out violent punishments for disobedience.  The average lifespan is 40 years.  The citizens are given no more than 10 rations per person per week of what could hardly be called food.  Many people, including myself, learn to start stealing from a young age—whether it be medication for your dying sister from a flunky’s bag, or some crackers for dinner from the packaged food we’re forced to make.  The ones who are good at stealing live longer, until pollution or disease kills them.  The ones who get caught, however, are often beaten violently, sometimes to the death._

_I’m going to tell you the ugly story of my life living in Meteor, and consequent escape._

The setting was intriguing enough for Kurapika to read on.

 

_Ever since I was born, my mother had been sick.  She worked in the mine, and would cough up blood and tar every time she came home.  Our ‘house’ was a little hut made from recycled factory debris—our kitchen table a cardboard box.  I had a younger sister—Lucy—as well, who was my best friend.  My father worked in a food packaging company, and the best nights of the week were when he was able to sneak home some hardened chocolate bits off the factory belt to bring home to us._

_We were all each other had and we were happy, until one day my mother grew too ill to go to work.  That meant that one quarter of our rations disappeared, as we only had one working parent, and the factories did not compensate for illness.  Father began to teach Lucy and I to steal from our work and pickpocket the flunkies; he told us to take anything we could to help her.  I would take some painkillers and food from my work, and Lucy would steal toothbrushes and soap from hers.  We were getting along better, and mother even started recovering slowly, until the day Lucy got caught._

_One of the flunkies showed up at our hut carrying her beaten and bruised half to death, and said that if any of us stole again she’d be killed.  All of us started crying in shock and fear, and I started to run after and beg the flunky to let her go, and help our mother.   As I did so I tripped, and some of my stolen food from my factory flew out of my pocket._

_I will never forget the way the man looked at me, marching right past me to the hut.  The way he pulled Lucy by her hair, and slit her throat with emptiness in his eyes._

At this point, Kurapika blinked a few times, heart full of emotion, because he too knew what it was like to have his best friend killed.

 

He set the book down for a moment and took a deep breath.  Perhaps, there was more to this story than met the eye.  Before he was ready to continue reading, there was a light knock on his door, and he rose to go open it.  The pink-haired girl he recognized as Machi came in with a tray of food.  Remembering how well his interaction with Shalnark went, Kurapika decided to test the waters with another Troupe member.

 

“Hey… Machi, right?”  he asked, hesitantly. 

 

“Don’t talk to me,” she said without skipping a beat.  Her expression didn’t change as she set down his food. 

 

 _Alright. Guess she’s not one for conversation,_ Kurapika thought after that cold response.  He receded towards the bed in defeat, fiddling with his chains in the awkward silence that followed. 

 

Before Machi left the room, she lingered in the doorway, her piercing blue eyes locked onto Kurapika.  Irritation lay clear on her face.  She spoke.

 

“You know… He gets bored quickly with his stolen goods.” Her voice cut through Kurapika like an icicle. “You’re no different.”  And she shut the door. 

 

Kurapika’s initial confusion faded into a range of hurt and annoyance as he laid down; his appetite suddenly gone.

  

* * *

 

 

_You said you wanna get to know me_

_But I think our lifelines became too intertwined_

_And now we’ve paid the price_

_And you cried “love’s like watching someone die”_

_And we should’ve just closed our eyes_

_I stay cold, feel the weight of the world_

_Now I always, always walk alone without you_

Song: Walk Alone -PVRIS

 

6:35 PM, Thomasburg, Caitlyn, YorkNew

 

 

Gon, Killua, and Leorio let out a simultaneous sigh, as they walked through a quaint street in Thomasburg.  Leorio’s brow was furrowed, his pace quick; the boys had to speed walk to keep up with his long strides.  They’d just gotten off the train, having spent the day on Short Island investigating by themselves.  They’d been looking for clues on Kurapika’s whereabouts, only to come up with nothing.  The aura between the three was somber and tense.

 

Leorio felt a tap on his shoulder.  It was Gon.  “Hey, don’t worry.  We’ll find him, okay?”  Gon looked up at Leorio with determined eyes and a slight smile in an attempt to cheer him up.  “Why don’t we go back to your place for some coffee? Killua and I will spend tonight searching.”

 

Leorio nodded and the three of them made their way back to his walk-up.  The boys had spent weeks now at Leorio’s, on a quest to find their friend.  As they walked in the apartment Gon went to Leorio’s kitchen to prepare the coffee, as Killua went over to Leorio’s desktop computer to continue investigating.

 

Leorio had to go in for patrol soon—he’d be taking a night shift.  Work lately had been really hard without Kurapika.  He found it impossible to focus knowing Kurapika was out there somewhere—probably in hiding—or worse...  what if he was being raped and tortured?  Or what if he was dead?  Leorio’s chest filled with worry and dread at the thought.  Kurapika wasn’t dead.  He couldn’t be.  He wandered the apartment, pacing, trying to think of anything but the worst-case scenario.  How was he supposed to care about petty theft cases and paperwork if he didn’t have Kurapika’s witty comments to keep him engaged?  What if Leorio never again would get to see the way Kurapika’s blonde hair waved in the wind… Or the rare occasion when they’d relax together as friends outside of work?

 

When the two had first been assigned as partners their personalities had clashed immensely. Leorio’s first impression of Kurapika was an insufferable, arrogant, stiff, know-it-all.  Kurapika had called him materialistic and asinine.  Kurapika had even sent in a request to the Sherriff to work alone, saying that Leorio had been ‘slowing him down’.  It wasn’t until weeks into their training that they realized they were able to work really well together, catching many criminals together and gaining recognition from their precinct for excellence.  They began to enjoy each other’s wit and banter, and would eat together after shift every day. 

 

He remembered, like it was yesterday, the first time Kurapika invited him over to his small, minimalist apartment.  It was surreal.  Leorio would wait on the couch as Kurapika took out his contacts, revealing the deep hue of his scarlet eyes for the first time. Leorio had listened as Kurapika opened up to him, slowly, first about his tragic past and the scars it left him with, and how those scars shaped his anger.  Kurapika would explain to him that since his family was killed, he hadn’t really trusted a single person with friendship, let alone a relationship.  Seeing that numb, pained look in Kurapika’s eyes sparked a dull twinge in Leorio’s heart that would only grow worse over time.

 

Leorio decided he needed a cigarette.

 

Leorio pulled on his coat, and went out on the balcony of his apartment, looking over the old buildings of Thomasburg.  The sun was setting, and he watched as the buildings turned on their lights one by one.  He lived close to the above-ground subway station, and as a train rushed past, the chilly wind ruffled through his short hair.  Cigarette smoke started to fog up his glasses.  With a small grunt of frustration, he pulled off the glasses and began to wipe them on the fabric of his sleeve.

 

Tonight, he planned to continue the conversation with the Sherriff regarding Kurapika’s innocence.  Yesterday during work, it hadn’t gone so well.  After all, how was he supposed to convince everyone that Kurapika’s case was definitely a fluke in self-defense?  The Sheriff was skeptical, especially since Kurapika’s last few days at work were off; he didn’t turn in his paperwork on time and had arrived late to patrol.  The Sheriff currently thought Kurapika had pulled one of those classic, misunderstood, pent-up-anger shootings, but Leorio knew Kurapika better than that.  He just had to think of something to tell the Sheriff to convince him, too.

 

His planning was interrupted as Killua appeared on the balcony, sliding the glass door shut as he came to stand next to Leorio.

 

The white-haired teenager stood with his hands in his pockets, joining Leorio in his pensive view. 

 

“I didn’t know you smoked,” Killua mused.

 

Leorio put out his burnt cigarette before pulling out the rest of the pack and sliding another out.  “I don’t, usually. But it’s a good de-stressor for occasions like this.”  He put the new cigarette in his mouth and lit it, inhaling.

 

“I want to try.  Give me one,” Killua demanded, holding out his hand.

 

Leorio raised an eyebrow before shaking his head.  “No way, kid.  Smoking is bad for you.”

 

Killua scowled.  He was 18, and about to graduate high school.  Surely, he was old enough to make these decisions for himself.

 

“Oh my God, Leorio!  What is that?!” Killua cried suddenly, pointing across the street. 

 

“What?! What is it?”  Leorio’s head whipped around in the direction of Killua’s finger.  _Bingo_ , Killua thought.  As Leorio was distracted, Killua snatched the cigarettes and lighter from him, pulling one out for himself.

 

“Hey brat! What do you think you’re doing?” Leorio interjected as he realized what Killua had just done.  Killua just smirked at Leorio as he lit his cigarette.  _Damned brat,_ thought Leorio.

 

Killua kept flicking the lighter, holding the flame to the end, but for some reason the cigarette wasn’t lighting.  Leorio noticed, and shook his head, half chuckling and half sighing.  “Here,” he said, reaching over to help Killua, “If you’re going to smoke, at least do it right.  You’ve gotta put it to your mouth on it and inhale at the same time as you’re lighting it.”

 

Killua tried out the new technique, but as he inhaled, he immediately burst out into a fit of coughing.  “Ugh, what the hell?”  he choked out between coughs.  “These things are nasty.”

 

Leorio just laughed at Killua.  _Serves him right_.  “Bet you can’t even finish one.”

 

Killua narrowed his eyes at the taunt.  He was now determined to finish what he started, and forced himself to take another drag as Leorio returned to his pensive stare at the city. 

 

“So,” Killua started, “Kurapika.”

 

“Yeah, Kurapika.”  Killua watched as Leorio’s brow furrowed again.

 

“You really care about him, huh?”

 

Leorio turned to look at Killua, his expression saying more than words ever could.  “I just… really hope he’s okay, you know?  I don’t know what I’d do… if… if…” Leorio’s voice hitched, “if he wasn’t.”

 

The anguish in his eyes, combined with the way he’d talked about Kurapika—like he was all that mattered in the world—hit Killua like a bus.  It was all too familiar as Killua suddenly realized the situation, eyes widening. 

 

“You’re in love with him,” Killua said, voice just above a whisper.

 

Now it was Leorio, mid-drag of his cigarette, who burst into a series of coughs.  “What?” he gasped out, followed by more coughs.  “That’s… that’s just crazy…”

 

But as his coughs faltered out he met with a knowing look from Killua, and Leorio realized that it was pointless to lie.

 

“How did you know?”  he asked quietly. 

 

Killua turned his eyes away, towards the city, as he took another drag.  “Don’t you have to leave for work, old man?”

 

Leorio glanced down at his watch.  _Shit._   He was going to be late.  “Dammit, brat.  You owe me an explanation later,” he said before rushing inside to get his things.   He was out the door in less than a minute, and Killua waited until he left to put out his cigarette and return inside.

 

“There you are Killua!” Gon exclaimed with a beaming smile that never failed to make Killua feel like he was melting.  “We’ve got a lot of work to do tonight, so let’s get started.  Also, I made you coffee, just the way you like it.  Here you go!”  He handed Killua a coffee loaded with chocolate syrup and milk. 

 

Killua couldn’t help but smile softly back at Gon as he took a sip.  It was delicious.  _Thank you, Gon.  Thank you,_ he wanted to say.  Instead a small, “yeah,” was all that came out.

 

         

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've included a pic of Kurapika's chain thing, in case you guys had no idea what I'm talking about lmao. I've decided that Leorio and Killua scenes are really cute and I really enjoy writing their dynamic. Also, in my defense the iPhone X wasn't released yet when I got this idea so that's why Shalnark's uPhone Z 'hasn't come out yet'.


	6. The Man in the Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our love is pushing out and pulling in
> 
> Just like a rising and falling chest that’s barely breathing
> 
> And did you ever wonder
> 
> About the dread on my tongue?
> 
> The blood in my lungs?
> 
> All I did was suffer
> 
> I was too afraid to say
> 
> (You took my heart)
> 
> You took my heaven away
> 
> (Heaven – PVRIS)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big thank you to my friend Rainy-Intel for help with concept and editing for this chapter. I hope you enjoy :)

On the vanity, lay a note and a bottle.  Pinot Noir.  Kurapika’s favorite, though he had never told Chrollo this fact.  

 

_Relax today, Blondie. I’ll come by tonight._

 

The bastard, he probably has done this kidnapping and manipulation technique countless times before.  The gifts, the notes, the charm, everything.  Why else would Machi call him a stolen good?  Chrollo must have done this same thing to her.  Although Kurapika always suspected it from the start, he had recently come to believe things were different for him.  The thought of Chrollo being with Machi, for some reason, made his stomach twist a knot and his lip curl in anger. With a start, he suddenly realized what the instant physical reaction meant for him.  He wasn’t jealous.  No way.  He didn’t care about this perverted criminal whatsoever; Chrollo could sleep with whoever he wanted.  Shaking the thoughts from his head, he looked towards the wine, deciding that alcohol could be a welcome distraction from his stupid, overly emotional thoughts.  He couldn’t deny that he did really enjoy Pinot Noir.  Kurapika reasoned he just needed to escape from the confines of a sober brain into a cloudy buzz of alcohol, to maybe gain a different perspective. Yes, he convinced himself, that’s exactly what he needed.  He poured himself a glass with shaky hands, the red liquid spilling up on the sides of crystal before settling on the bottom of the cup.

 

Yes, he needed a distraction from the intrusive thoughts of Chrollo and Machi.  Looking throughout his room he saw the Meteor City novel on the nightstand, and settled down into the crisp white sheets of the bed with his wine and book.  His eyes scanned the pages, taking in more of this Marcus DeLucio guy’s story.

 

_With Lucy’s murder, life didn’t get any easier.  We missed my sister dearly, and the stress took its toll on our mother as her illness grew worse.  Father’s face seemed to age more quickly by the day, he now wore a constant expression of worry, and bags constantly lined his under eyes._

 

_Despite the dire consequences stealing could lead to, we were forced to do it more to fend off mother’s sickness.  Mother grew pale, lips cracked from dehydration, unable to get out of bed without help.  We went more than two days without eating at a time to give her what little we could get with our rations, and stole whatever we could find without risking getting caught.  Cough suppressants, painkillers, fresh bottled water stolen from the bag of a flunky-- it was never enough.  It was only a matter of weeks before she too would die an uneventful death stemming from the harsh reality of our hell hole of a city._

 

And so Kurapika read on the entire day, completely enthralled by Marcus’s story.  Marcus’s father was eventually caught stealing too, and put to death by a corporate guard.  Marcus’s entire family had died at the hands of these evil business owners, one by one, leaving him an orphan.  It was similar to Kurapika’s situation.  Kurapika looked down at the empty wine glass in his hands and frowned.  He got up to pour some more red liquid, before returning back to the book.   

 

_Things were growing worse.  With entire family gone, I was left to fend for myself-- a feral child on the loose in a polluted trash jungle.  I felt terribly guilty every day, wishing it was me who died that first day instead of Lucy, living with the truth that I caused her death, leading to the subsequent death of my parents. I tried to stay on my own as long as I could, but the flunkies captured me and put me in the sorry excuse for a home they put all the orphans-- and there were a lot of them._

 

_We were all underfed, lonely, overworked, slaves to the system, but at least I was able to meet other children.  I banded together with four other kids, and when we were alone we’d make fun of the flunkies and talk about all the things we wish we could do to them, how we wish we could be the ones yelling at them to work harder and clean faster._

 

_My orphan buddies and I got so good at stealing we were able to hoard entire freeze dried meals and toys underneath our beds to play with at night.  Although, one time, we got carried away and were a bit too loud playing at night, receiving several beatings as punishment._

 

_It was that night that with our tears and bruised bodies we started planning our escape.  We swore to each other we’d get out of this place one day, and cause harm to these corporate assholes.  But the flunkies weren’t about to let us make bonds so easily.  They started to give incentives to turn against each other, giving extra food and desserts to those who found thieves.  I quickly found out who my friends were, and who was weak, sold out to the flunky’s games.  I was severely beaten, even breaking an arm, several times.  Other children caught stealing weren’t so lucky.  Some were even killed for getting caught stealing more than five times, including some of my friends.  The sadistic flunkies would often get carried away with their punishments._

 

Kurapika, on his third glass of wine, began to tear up.  He didn’t know if it was the alcohol buzzing into his thoughts, drowning him in catharsis, or if the story itself was truly profound, but he never related to something so much in his life.  He knew exactly what it was like to lose your family and friends to selfish, greedy, evil people, and survive alone, regretting everything you have ever done leading up to the moment they were taken from you.  

 

And like that, he read on, as Marcus’s escape story unfolded.  When he and his buddies hit their teenage years they eventually killed the orphanage employees with shivs and stolen knives and made a break for it.  They took keys off of one of the dead bodies to a car and hopped in to make their escape. Not even knowing how to drive, they did their best, hitting poles and trash cans along the way.  They plowed through the chain link fence and they were home free.  

 

Kurapika had been reading for hours now, and was now fully inebriated.  With a flick of this thumb, he turned to the final page of the novel.  

 

_Constantly being met with the stabbing pain of loss really hardens you to the world.  We were forced to learn to let go quickly, for life is too short and fragile to stay lost in the past.  Venturing out into the real world with my friends we had no idea what awaited us next.  All we knew was that we had no respect for the outside world or anyone in it-- they were all full of greed, ignorance, and complacency.  After all, they had turned their backs on Meteor City years ago, and had allowed the horrors that take place there to continue this entire time.  We will not allow anything more to be taken from us.  We will not yield.  We will take anything and everything back from this world._

 

The last paragraph was a sentence long, with words that burned deep into Kurapika’s mind.  

 

_We reject no one, so take nothing from us._

 

After Kurapika closed the book he took a deep breath, on the verge of tears. The wine bottle was empty now, but Kurapika himself was filled with too many emotions. Marcus’s outlook on the world was absolutely fascinating.  He saw people raised outside Meteor as little more than insects; pawns and allies of the terrible system that put people in Meteor in the first place.  Someone raised in such harsh brutality would of course find the average person’s day-to-day struggle trivial in comparison.

 

It was too bad that the story was only fiction, as he would have liked to talk to Marcus in person, and help him take back and take down the evil people that ruined his childhood.  If there was anyone who understood that desire, it was Kurapika.

 

Kurapika tried to get up off the bed to put the book back on the shelf but was immediately hit with a wave of dizziness, and had to collect himself before slowly standing up. Stumbling to the other side of the room he somehow managed not to fall down and completed his task.  Boy, was he drunk.

 

In the bathroom sink he poured himself a glass of water before he locked eyes with the guy in the mirror, and realized that he was still in his pajamas. His next action was to pull on a long sleeved striped shirt and black, form fitting trousers, finally getting dressed for the day with clothes Chrollo had gifted him.

 

Chrollo.  

 

Chrollo, the man who would soon chew him up and spit him out like used gum, seeing him as nothing more than a stolen good.  Kurapika couldn’t stop thinking about how much he would like to punch him right now.  First Machi, now him, too?  Hell, maybe he was fucking all of his slaves.

 

As he finished buttoning those dark trousers, as if on cue, there was a knock at his door.  Kurapika, who was angry, drunk, and practically seeing double just yelled, “Go away!”

 

To which, naturally, the door opened anyway.  Kurapika cursed the absence of a lock on his door.   _If it’s that bastard, I swear to god...._

 

As soon as he caught sight of the familiar dark hair the adrenaline hit, giving the temporary coordination needed to pounce on his target.  He grabbed Chrollo’s tie with one hand and yanked it down until they were eye level, his red eyes flashing with rage.

 

“Woah, blondie,” Chrollo’s shocked wide eyes held an expression of feigned innocence that Kurapika wanted to claw off his face.  “I know you’re happy to see me, but let’s at least get to the bed first,” he said, teasing.

 

Kurapika obliged by yanking harshly again on the tie, this time dragging Chrollo behind him. With a turn of his heel he roughly shoved Chrollo on top of the mattress and climbed on top of him, pinning his wrists down- the fabric of Chrollo’s suit and tie now torn around the neck.

 

Chrollo let out a grunt of surprise as Kurapika tackled him before his expression turned to amusement.  “I didn’t know you were into this sort of rough play.”

 

“Shut up.” Kurapika squeezed on his wrists until he was sure it would hurt.  He leaned in close, sending Chrollo his deadliest glare before he spoke again.  “You... sick bastard.  You fuck all of them, don’t you?  This is how you get them to join you.  You manipulate, charm and fuck them until they’re all obsessed with you, and then they join your troupe like a cult, you monster.”

 

Blinking at the sudden outburst, a beat passed before the infuriating asshole started to laugh.  A low, hearty chuckle broke the silence.  This further provoked Kurapika, who dug his nails into Chrollo’s flesh, drawing blood.  He took both the wrists in his left hand and with the right reached down to Chrollo’s neck, putting him in a chokehold.  For whatever reason, Chrollo did not attempt to stop him, allowing Kurapika to pin him down.

 

“Stop laughing,”  Kurapika hissed in his face, leaning in.

 

After a few seconds Chrollo’s laughter died down and he made eye contact again.  “You’re drunk.”

 

“I’ll kill you if you don’t answer my question.” Kurapika threateningly dug his nails in to his neck, drawing blood.  He was not bluffing, he would gladly end the man underneath him.  Chrollo was visibly struggling to breathe now, squirming underneath Kurapika.  Kurapika leaned in closer until their foreheads were almost touching and spoke in a low, dark voice.  “How many of them have you fucked?”

 

He eased his grip on Chrollo’s neck just enough for him to talk.  Chrollo coughed a few times from having his throat constricted and then spoke with a calm voice, eyes not leaving Kurapika’s.  “Actually, you are the first lover of mine that I’ve asked to join the troupe, Kurapika.”

 

Kurapika was ready to shove him down again and end his pathetic existence until the words he’d just heard registered, freezing him in place.  He blinked, his jaw dropping. His drunk brain was now unable to focus on anything except Chrollo’s use of not only his name, but also the word _lover._  

 

Kurapika’s flustered stupor did not go unnoticed.  Taking advantage of Kurapika’s loosened grip, Chrollo bumped Kurapika up by his hips and rolled over, switching their positions and pinning Kurapika underneath him.  

 

Chrollo’s smirk down at Kurapika made him suddenly forget how to breathe.  He took in the sight of his teal orb earrings, and messy black hair framing his face. The deep crimson of blood staining not only his shirt but the pale skin of his neck and arms.  The inhumanly strong, attractive man was an ever evolving puzzle.  

 

“Just what kind of slut do you take me for, blondie?” Chrollo asked, leaning close enough in to tickle Kurapika’s cheeks with his hair.  The air between them was tense, tight, and thick.  The close proximity left them both breathy, gasping for oxygen.   _Lover,_ he’d said.   _Lover._ In Chrollo’s dark eyes Kurapika saw a mirror of everything he was feeling.

 

Suffocation.

 

Intoxication.

 

Asphyxiation.

 

Lust.

 

And when Chrollo finally closed the distance between their lips, Kurapika kissed back deeply, a newfound passion taking over his actions.

 

* * *

 

 

_I took the mirror from the wall so I can't see myself at all_

 

_Don't wanna see another damn inch of my skull_

 

_Forget the poems of saints and ghosts_

 

_I'm the one I fear the most_

 

_Little did I know that I was only crying wolf_

 

(What’s Wrong - PVRIS)

 

The two lay splayed out on the bed, panting heavily after their fun time together.  Kurapika had slowly been gaining sobriety, and a clearer look at Chrollo made him wince, seeing the aftermath of his earlier outburst.

 

“You’re still bleeding,” he said, reaching out as if to touch the dark red lines contrasting against Chrollo’s pale, flushed skin.  “Wait just one moment.” Jumping up the blond pulling on his undergarments before disappearing into the bathroom.

 

He returned moments later with a wet towel, antiseptic, and the bandages Chrollo had given him on his first night at the hideout.  Luckily, Chrollo hadn’t moved much, and was still sitting on the bed, but with clothes on his body.  Kurapika made his way over to guide Chrollo’s head forwards in order to dab the wounds on his neck.  Chrollo’s eyebrows raised at the caring action, but he allowed Kurapika to tend to his injuries nonetheless.

 

“You know, you could have killed me back there, blondie.”

 

Kurapika scoffed-- Chrollo must be taunting him again.  Right, as if the best fighter he’d ever seen would be killed so easily.  But then again… another thought occured to Kurapika.  He tilted his head to look at Chrollo’s face.  “Would you have let me?”

 

The man just smirked before his eyes became mostly unreadable-- expression flickering with the tiniest bit of vulnerability before he looked away in stoicism.  Yet another game that Kurapika didn’t want to give any mind to at the moment.  With a sigh he moved on to taking care of the wounds on Chrollo’s wrists.  Chrollo didn’t so much as flinch when Kurapika applied the antiseptic, despite how badly it could sting against torn flesh.  Kurapika wondered if the man felt pain at all, or if he feared for his own life.  If he didn’t, such a sentiment would surely be a unique form of sociopathy.   

 

“So,”  Kurapika started, now moving to cover the wounds with bandages.   “I get that you thought the old leader was reckless and stupid for taking all those lives.  However, the troupe still causes casualties.  How can you kill people who have nothing to do with you?”

 

Kurapika lifted his eyes from the bloody wrists as Chrollo spoke.  “Hmm,”  he said, eyes wandering towards the ceiling in thought.   “Well, I guess you could say we only kill when we need to.”

 

Kurapika paused, grip on Chrollo’s wrists becoming tight.  “You scum.  Why was it necessary for Pakunoda to kill those innocent security guards?  What constitutes needing to kill someone?”

 

“I assume she killed him as a means to keep herself and the rest of the spiders there that night safe. You tell me blondie, when you’re out in the field, what makes you kill someone?”

 

Kurapika blinked, the tables having turned.  “Well…” Off the top of his head he gave the rehearsed answer he had always known.  “We only kill when we need to. To keep the public safe.”

 

“What about those people you kill?  Do they not deserve to live too?”

 

“But they’re criminals!  They’re evil.  In the force, they don’t— we don’t kill for nothing. We kill for good. We kill for justice.”

 

“Justice? Ah, yes justice. Big brother is always on about justice. Blondie, considering how smart you are I assumed you’d have figured it out by now.”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I’d appreciate if you’d stop speaking in riddles,” Kurapika seethed, eyes flashing.  He’d finished wrapping up the injuries and folded his arms across his chest.

 

Chrollo chuckled and blinked slowly, before looking back up again, to meet Kurapika’s scarlet eyes. “Justice, vengeance, retribution. All just petty excuses used by killers who still haven’t accepted what they are. There’s no such thing as killing for good.”

 

Kurapika felt Chrollo’s eyes on him as he looked down to stare at his hands, then the floor.  He heard the door open and close and looked up to find himself alone, again.  He felt his hands clenching and unclenching, his whole body beginning to tremble. It was happening again. The weight of Chrollo’s sentence hung in the air. Kurapika couldn’t breathe. He got up, pulled on his clothes, and started pacing.  How dare Chrollo insinuate that Kurapika was of the same fold as him?  He passed the vanity, pausing.  He saw the ruby red of his eyes, and deep shades of purple in the dark circles underneath them.  He saw his tattered clothes and the scrapes on his forehead. He hated what he saw. With tears in his eyes he threw a heavy punch to the mirror and cried out as it shattered, his hand beginning to bleed from the shards falling on it.

 

Chrollo was wrong. He had to be. Those were just words meant to mess with Kurapika’s head.  They were meant to crawl in like a parasite, and make him question his sanity, meant to confuse and swirl every idea he’d held since he could remember. But… if that’s all it was, why was his mind going blank? Why couldn’t he shake off Chrollo’s words? Why couldn’t he get them out of his head?

 

Maybe because deep down, he knew the words held truth. He’d known somewhere in his heart for a while now.  The rage he had always clung to so tightly was slowly slipping from his grasp.

 

* * *

 

Upon awakening Kurapika had to rub his eyes for a moment before settling into a troubled gaze.  His door had been left open, exposing the common area of the hideout, and he didn’t know what to do about it.  Rising from the bed he peeked out hesitantly, and was about to close the door when a voice stopped him.

 

“Pika! You’re finally up! Wanna play cards with us?”  Shalnark’s voice rang loud and high off the tall ceilings, creating a slight echo.  As Kurapika poked his head out of the door he saw a circle of ragtag Troupe members sitting at a table, and Shalnark’s big smile waving him over.

 

Kurapika didn’t exactly want to go, but he also didn’t want to find out what they’d do if he didn’t.  “Alright,” he said.  Collecting himself, he slowly stepped out of his room, shutting the door behind him whilst trying to look nonchalant.

 

As he approached the circle he received a less-than-friendly look from the guy he now knew as Nobunaga.  This look was echoed by an even sharper look from Machi, who sat next to Nobunaga.  Next to her, Feitan, then a massive guy called Franklin, and that girl who always wore a turtleneck and a St Peter’s cross necklace, who Kurapika now knew was called Shizuku completed the circle.  Shalnark and Shizuku both made room for the Kurta to join the circle, and as he sat down Franklin started dealing the cards.  Kurapika then noticed playing chips laying in front of their seats in little piles.  They were going to play poker!

 

“Um...” Kurapika started, “I think you guys still have my wallet...” Although Kurapika had always been good at poker, he didn’t have any money to bet with at the moment.

 

“Don’t worry,” said Shizuku.  “We never play with real money.”

 

Kurapika let out the air he had been holding in with relief.  The last thing he needed was to also owe these guys money.  He took a peek at the cards he’d been dealt to see two A’s: one with a Spade, and one with a Diamond.  Pocket Aces!  What were the odds?  The first round of bets commenced, and when it was Kurapika’s turn he threw two extra chips on the table, to which Feitan threw a skeptical glance in his direction.

 

“Do you even know what you’re doing?”  he asked Kurapika incredulously.

 

“Obviously,” Kurapika spat, offended.

 

Raising his eyebrows, Feitan muttered “alright then,” and called Kurapika’s raise.  Smirking internally, Kurapika knew he couldn’t possibly have a better hand than him.  His exterior expression remained stoic despite his clear advantage, a perfect poker face.  Machi and Shalnark folded, leaving just Shizuku, Nobunaga, and Feitan matching Kurapika’s bet.  Franklin dealt the flop, and Kurapika’s heart started racing when he saw the two remaining Aces laying face up next to a three of hearts.  He most definitely had the best hand on the table, and couldn’t let this opportunity go to waste.  He’d egg them on with just high enough of a bet to make them call instead of fold, to get a maximum profit.

 

Feitan tapped his fingers on the table twice, signaling a check.  Kurapika’s turn was next.  He raised by fifteen, gaining new looks of surprise from everyone on the table.

 

“Oh dear…” Shizuku muttered, before calling Kurapika’s bet with her own chips; she’d be staying in this round.  Nobunaga threw a heavy glare in Kurapika’s direction before clicking his teeth and handing his cards back to their dealer, Franklin.  The turn yielded a four of diamonds, to which Kurapika raised yet again by fifteen.  To his surprise, Shizuku called, and Feitan folded with a shake of his head.  The river yielded a seven of clubs.  Kurapika had this one in the bag.  He raised again, only to have Shizuku match him again, clearly confident in her hand.

 

Kurapika finally revealed his cards.  “Four of a kind.”

 

Shizuku let out a sigh as she revealed her hand of two fives.  “Two pair.  Nice one, you win.”  The chips in the pot were pushed towards Kurapika.

 

Shalnark turned to Kurapika and held his hand out for a high five.  “Nice, Pika!”

 

Kurapika returned the high five hesitantly, then ran a finger through his hair and blushed, muttering “thanks.”

 

“Don’t let the little bastard get too cocky,” Nobunaga interjected.  “He just had a lucky hand.”

 

Kurapika narrowed his eyes.  Rude.

 

Feitan chuckled.  "I dunno, he actually might be pretty good."

 

Kurapika blinked, taken aback by Feitan of all people defending him.  He was quickly learning which of the Troupe members he found tolerable.  With red cheeks, he averted his eyes as Franklin dealt the new hand.

 

A peek at his new hand revealed a King and Ace of hearts.  He didn't know what he'd done to earn the gods' favor today but he seemed to be rolling in luck.  The initial bet above the big blind was raised by Machi to twenty, and called by everyone except Feitan, who folded.  The flop yielded yet another round of good cards: a Ten, Jack, and five of hearts.  Kurapika now had a flush, and was ready to bet some serious chips.  Shizuku was already low on chips, since she'd bet against her odds last turn.  It wouldn't be too difficult to take her out of the game this round if Kurapika played correctly.  He raised by ten, which was called by Shizuku then immediately countered by Nobunaga, who raised another fifteen.  With the stakes now so high, Machi and Shalnark folded, and Kurapika and Shizuku called again.

 

"Look what you've done Shal, his head is huge now.  Let's hope he's got the hand to back it up," Nobunaga taunted.

 

"Pika's smarter than you're giving him credit for, Nobu.  Boss wouldn't like him so much otherwise,” Shalnark retorted.

 

Machi visibly twitched.  "Oh, would you shut up Shalnark?  This is the same guy who killed our friends, you know.  I don't see why you and Boss are all... obsessed with him all of the sudden.  He's nothing but an angry revenge whore."

 

 _Shots. Fired_.  Kurapika was turning red all over again.  What could he possibly say to that?

 

"Yeah, kid just murdered Uvo and Paku and he's still not over his clan's deaths.  That happened what... like over ten years ago?  Pathetic," Nobunaga added, shooting daggers with his eyes across the table.

 

 _Ouch_.  Kurapika felt a fresh wave of panic coming on, like he was being cornered with nowhere to hide.  He turned his head away, looking down at his clenched fists when suddenly Shizuku spoke up.

 

"Leave him alone.  You don't know enough about him to say these hateful things."

 

Kurapika looked up in wonder at the small girl who had just stood up for him.  The tense exchange of words, mid-poker game, struck a twinge in his chest.  These people were acting so strange, so full of emotion, and so incredibly... human.  The spiders were showing a new side, one that was much too far from the soulless monsters his conscience needed them to be.  "No, Shizuku, he's right.  I haven't been able to move on," Kurapika admitted, owning up to his faults for once.

 

Shalnark put his hand on Kurapika's shoulder, an act of comforting his new friend.  He was able to tell how much Kurapika was affected by the mention of his clan.  "Hey, don't worry.  We've all lost people close to us, and I understand how hard it can be."  Kurapika looked into his bright blue eyes, full of concern.  Why was this guy so nice to him?  "Do you think there's anything that would help you move on?"

 

"Save it Shalnark. People like him can never see past their grudges," Machi interrupted.

 

Kurapika fiercely looked up in determination at the cold woman.  "Their eyes," he said.  "Their eyes are still out there, hoarded by body parts collectors who bought them for disgusting amounts of money.  I want to retrieve them and give them a proper burial."

 

"Huh," Shalnark said, as he and Shizuku nodded their heads in understanding.  Nobunaga and Machi turned away, refusing to give Kurapika their attention, while Franklin and Feitan wore expressions of indifference.  "Have you told Boss about that?  I'm sure he'd be willing to help you out."

 

Kurapika shook his head and waved his hand, dismissing the idea.  "No, it's fine."  He just wanted to shift the topic away from him, as his presence was clearly very controversial and he didn't need to be caught in a fight today.  "Let's just keep playing."

 

"Yeah, alright.  Go ahead, Franklin."

 

Franklin nodded, then dealt the turn.  A Queen of Hearts.  Kurapika's hand was now a Royal Flush--the rarest and best hand in the entire game.  Nobunaga raised fifty.  Kurapika raised one hundred.

 

Shizuku sighed.  "Where did all my chips go?"

 

"You literally _just_ bet them all away on a poor hand," Feitan answered.

 

Shizuku looked confused.  "That doesn't sound like me..." she said, but pushed the rest of her chips towards the center, going all in.  Feitan and a few others chuckled lightly, and Kurapika blinked.

 

"She's a bit forgetful," Shalnark explained as he saw the confused look Kurapika wore.

 

"Ah." _How endearing_.

 

When the river was flipped, Nobunaga tapped the table twice to check, followed by Kurapika raising by yet another fifty.  Shizuku was already all in so the bet went back to Nobunaga, who matched Kurapika's fifty.  It was time to reveal their cards.

 

“Flush,” Nobunaga quipped with a confident grin.

 

“Damn,” Shizuku said, “I only had a straight.”

 

“Flip em’ over, kid,” Nobunaga said to Kurapika.

 

“Royal Flush.”  He showed his King and Ace.

 

“Ah, you’ve got to be kidding me!  The odds of him having that hand are one in a billion!” Nobunaga cried, turning to Franklin.  “This is rigged.  I forfeit.”  Franklin just shrugged.

 

“Same,” Machi said, moving to stand up.  The two of them left the table in a huff, and Kurapika followed them with his eyes, unsure of what to do as the chips in the pot were pushed towards him again by Franklin, creating a huge pile in front of him—a gross display of his win.

 

“Don’t worry about them,” Shizuku said.  “They’re just salty.”

 

Blushing again, Kurapika gave his cards back to Franklin.  “I’ll forfeit as well.  Someone else can take these,” he said, gesturing to his chips.  He really, really did not want to end up fist-fighting the Troupe over one poker game.

 

“Well if you don’t want to play… How about Shizuku and I show you around the hideout?  I don’t think you’ve gotten an official tour yet,” Shalnark offered.

 

Kurapika contemplated for a moment.  “Alright, sure,” he said, standing up.  Feitan and Franklin made grumbles about not finishing the game but they also got up and left the table shortly after.

 

He followed the bubbly blonde boy and the short, dark-haired glasses girl down a hallway made from folding room dividers.  The tall tracksuit guy passed them on their left as they walked.  

 

“Hey Phinks!” Shalnark chirped.

 

“Oh hey guys,” Phinks replied, as he approached the three.  “Showing Kurapika around?”

 

“Yeah, I figured I’d give him a tour.”

 

“Sounds good, I’ll be in my room,” he said, and gave a small smile and a wave in Kurapika’s direction as he passed.  Another member that didn’t want to kill him: _score_.

 

The first room they went into contained huge shelves of every electronic a person could ever want.  As Kurapika stepped in the room the sound of discombobulated beeping filled his ears.  uPhones, uPads, all sorts of Pear products, and every gaming console known to man filled his vision.

 

“What’s that noise?” Kurapika asked.

 

Shalnark and Shizuku looked back at him with grins.  “You’ll see.”

 

As the Troupe members led him farther into the room, behind rows of shelves, the beeping intensified.  It sounded like R2D2 was giving a speech.  They finally hit the end of the room, where Kortopi’s long mop head was positioned towards a computer screen.  

 

“How’s it coming, Kortopi?” Shalnark asked the dwarf.  

 

“Pretty good, I’ve got blueprints made for most of the fakes we’ll be needing on our next heist.”  Kortopi turned towards them and pushed some of his hair out of his face, revealing one of his big blue eyes.

 

“Kortopi is excellent at 3D printing,” Shizuku explained to Kurapika, and gestured to a big machine on their left.  

 

“It’s noisy, but it gets results,” Kortopi said.  

 

Kurapika moved towards the machine, examining the nozzle as it moved back and forth, creating the layers of an object.  He’d never seen a real 3D printer before, and the sight was mesmerizing.  “Woah.”

 

“It’s awesome, right?” Shalnark exclaimed, letting Kurapika indulge in the fascinating sight.  After a few moments he said, “Come on, I wanna show you more of the base.  You can watch this later,” and pulled Kurapika along.  

 

“See you guys,” Kortopi waved as they left the room.  

 

They went back into the main area and passed several more rooms.  “This here is my room, and Machi’s, and then Feitan’s is over there.”

 

“This place has a lot of rooms for a warehouse,” Kurapika mused.

 

“Actually, about fifty years ago this place was a brothel.  One of the last few in YorkNew before the YNPD shut them down.  That’s why there are so many rooms and bathrooms,”  Shizuku said.

 

“I see.”  It was fitting, for a new group of criminals to repurpose the illegal place as their base.  Kurapika followed the two farther down into an open area at the end of the hallway.

 

“And this room here is the kitchen,” Shalnark said as they entered the new space.  The kitchen was surprisingly large, especially for a place in YorkNew.   Kurapika ran his hands over the smooth granite countertops.  

 

“Can I ask who cooks?  They are quite talented,” Kurapika said.

 

“Well,” Shizuku chimed in, “We’re actually on a rotation between me, Shalnark, Nobunaga, Bonolenov and Boss.”

 

“You mean Chrollo cooks?  Huh.  I never would have guessed.”  Kurapika wondered what other talents the man was hiding up his sleeve.  

 

“Mmhmm!  Would you like a glass of water, Kurapika?” Shizuku inquired, her short hair bouncing up and down as she grabbed a glass from the cupboard.

 

“Sure.” She filled the cup with water and handed it to the Kurta.

 

“Speaking of our cooks... Shalnark, do you know where Boss and Bonolenov went today?” Shizuku asked.  Kurapika’s eyes flitted to the other blonde, who was sitting on top of the island counter.   

 

Shalnark tapped his chin.  “My guess is they probably went back to Meteor to scope out the current state of the area.”  

 

“Ah, makes sense,” Shizuku said, as Kurapika almost spit out his mouth full of water and fell into a coughing fit.  

 

“You okay Pika?” Shalnark and Shizuku rushed to his side.  “Don’t die!”

 

Through coughs Kurapika managed to choke out  “I’m fine.”  He collected himself, eyes burning.  “But did you just say Meteor?!”

 

The two Troupe members shared a look of confusion.  “Yeah,” Shalnark said, “Meteor City.  You probably haven’t heard of it, but most of us are from there.”

 

Kurapika’s heart started thumping in his chest.  “Meteor City… Like from the book?”  There was just no way.  No way.

 

Shalnark let out a snort.  “You found that old thing?”

 

Kurapika just stared straight ahead, brain scrambling to form a coherent thought.  “I thought that book was fiction.”

 

“Understandable.  God, that book’s so badly written.  It being banned was probably for the best, since no one can take it seriously.”

 

“Then…” Kurapika was trying to understand. “Marcus DeLucio is…”

 

“Marcus was our former leader.”

 

“The one who slaughtered my village?”  

 

“That’s the guy!”  Kurapika’s jaw dropped.  This couldn’t be possible.  Not only was Meteor City a real place, but the story he related to most belonged to a man who ruthlessly massacred everyone he grew up with.  Underneath it all, even the most terrible of killers had a story.

 

Kurapika felt that claustrophobic feeling creeping around him again.  “I can’t… believe this…”  

 

He’d always believed that the people who committed such atrocities were nothing but evil, soulless demons.  That they were lost beyond reason, incapable of normal human emotions and empathy.  But if that was true, how come he had shed tears when reading about the brutality Marcus had been put through?  How was it possible that as he finished the book he agreed with the man’s point of view?  

 

In his brain good and evil had always been just that.  Good was light, truth, reason, and justice, and bad was darkness, hate, and cruelty.    But the information he’d just heard was forcing him to rethink his entire paradigm.  Perhaps the real truth, the real story, was a murky, chaotic system living in between the black and white morals he’d always held to.  One with many actors, each with a myriad of backstories and motivations, all fighting within the mind frame they’d been raised to believe.  Indeed, perhaps the truth was that they were all living in a different shade of grey.

 

“Kurapika?” Shizuku’s voice returned him to reality.  He looked up into her brown eyes full of concern.  As the information sunk in Kurapika was finally starting to understand.  He couldn’t even fathom the horrors these people had had to live through.  If all of them had been brought up in such a hectic life of cruelty, it explained so much of the Troupe’s actions.  Why they stole everything, why they constantly toed the line between infamy and anonymity, and the reason why they existed as a group in the first place.  Even down to the people and the system they claimed to be fighting against.  It all started to click.

 

“When will Chrollo be back?” he asked Shizuku--his new ally, his friend.  

 

“Hmm… I would guess very late tonight.  Why?”

 

“I need to talk to him,”  Kurapika said, with new determination filling his scarlet eyes.


	7. Turning the Tables

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ice cold to the touch
> 
> No I'll never be your snow covered lover
> 
> That shit was pathetic, I need love
> 
> I'm warm flesh and blood
> 
> Call me spineless but at least I've got a heart between my lungs
> 
> You feel too little and I feel too much
> 
>  
> 
> Can you burn a fire in my flesh?
> 
> 'Cause your love's so cold I see my breath
> 
> I can't take another night
> 
> Always frozen by your side
> 
> (Winter - PVRIS)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thank you to Rainy-Intel again for help concepting and editing here. My chapters keep getting longer, idk. Hope you enjoy this one :)

Kurapika had to do a double, no--triple take when he woke up, just to make sure that what he was seeing was real.  Upon confirmation, he jolted out of bed towards the spot where mirror fragments used to lie scattered on the floor.  The fact that Kurapika had slept through someone cleaning them up was a mystery for another day, since the items that now sat on the vanity were sucking all of his attention.  Jaw dropped in awe, he picked up the note left for him, scanning the letters through the glassy moisture now clouding his eyes.  

 

_Shalnark informed me of the conversation you had.  We didn’t sell all of them back in the day--these were saved for if we ever hit a rough spot and needed cash.  They’re yours now._

 

_P.S. You know, you could have just told me you wanted them.  - Chrollo_

 

With tears flowing freely from his eyes, Kurapika was somewhat happy that the mirror was gone.  It saved him from having to stare at his crying face as he was filled with a million emotions.  One after another, he picked up each of the three pairs of scarlet eyes, viewing all angles of the suspended orbs before setting them back down.  His thoughts immediately flew back in time, to all the memories of everyone he’d lost that cursed night.  His best friend Pairo, his parents, the baker, the local doctor… All of them reduced down to nothing but the lifeless jars that sat in front of him.  The eyes were, blank, so unbelievably blank, just a void of nothingness.  Kurapika knew the nothingness all too well: he’d been living in the remnants of it his entire life.  He never did get the chance to avenge their deaths, and never would.  The reminder of his utter failure almost sent him back to the dark place he’d been that first night he’d been taken by the Troupe, until his scarlet eyes hit the note once more.  His hand reached up, feeling the sharp edges and chains of his ruby earring--the one that Chrollo had given him.  His eyes flitted again and again from the note, to the jars, to the place where the mirror had been, before he’d punched it to pieces with his fist.  Chrollo.  The man he’d once thought of as even more soulless than the dead eyes in front of him, had given him all these things.  The strange irony of it all, even down to the fact that he hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to the man before falling asleep last night, had him stumbling back to the mattress.  He’d taken in Kurapika, someone who’d killed two of his friends in a rage induced revenge hunt, and gave him clothes and food, even going out of his way to return these eyes to him.  Kurapika lifted his gaze back to the jars, trying to process what it all meant.  He stared, and stared, and stared.  Just who was the cold enigma that was Chrollo Lucilfer?  

 

* * *

 

Hours passed, one after another, until finally Kurapika’s brooding was interrupted by a knock at his door.  He reluctantly tore his gaze from the glass jars, getting up to open it.  

 

“Oh, it’s you, Shizuku.”

 

“Yup, it’s me! How’s it going Kurapika?” she asked, arms full with a tray of food for the Kurta, which he graciously took from her, placing it on the vanity.  Her question, though, was one Kurapika didn’t quite know how to answer, with the rough mixture of emotions he’d been dealing with recently.  

 

“I’m… fine, I guess.  Please, come in,” he invited, retreating to sit on the bed with his elbows propped on his knees.  

 

“What do you mean, you guess?”  Shizuku shut the door behind her, then followed Kurapika’s pensive gaze toward the glass jars on his vanity, gasping in understanding.  “Are those…?”

 

“Yes, they’re the eyes of my brethren.  Chrollo left them for me this morning.”  Shizuku pushed her glasses up, then hesitantly moved towards the suspended objects.

 

“Wow, I didn’t know we still had any of these.  Do you mind if I…?”  She asked, gesturing in the direction of the vanity.

 

“Go ahead, take a look,”  Kurapika answered.  

 

“I’ll be careful,” she said, as she gingerly lifted one jar up, examining.  She tilted the jar in her hands, turning it around to inspect all angles of the unique spheres. “They truly are something else, aren’t they?”

 

Kurapika didn’t answer her, as he looked at the wall in front of him.  Shizuku, noticing his numb expression set the jar back down on the vanity and moved to sit next to Kurapika on the mattress.  She placed one of her small hands on his back and gently moved it back and forth, in an act of sympathy.  “This must be very difficult for you, to see them again.  But I’m glad we still had these and that Boss was able to return them to you.”

 

Kurapika turned to look at her.  “I was hoping I could talk to you about that actually.  I need your advice.”

 

Shizuku blinked, surprised that Kurapika would want her advice.  After a brief moment, though, she nodded, and said “okay, sure, what do you need?”

 

“I don’t know if you already know this, but, Chrollo and I have been…” he paused for a moment, blushing, “well, we’ve been sleeping together, and I find him quite difficult to understand.  Everytime we talk, he’s very cold, and distant.  Yet, he leaves me gifts, and today he returned these eyes to me, and, I guess, I would like to thank him, and hopefully be able to really talk to him--to find out what he’s thinking,” Kurapika finished lamely, not knowing if his rambling was making any sense.

 

Shizuku folded her hands in her lap and nodded her head slowly, looking forward in deep thought.  “I see, so that’s the nature of your relationship,” she said.

 

Kurapika nodded numbly, furrowing his brow.  “I guess I just thought, since you know him better than I do, you might have an idea of where I might go from here.”

 

“Hmm… well, what is it like when you are together?  And how did you two even end up sleeping together in the first place?”

 

“That’s the thing, we don’t really talk much.  I never know what to say, aside from asking few practical questions.  The first time he came in here he kissed me, and the next he sort of... pinned me down and fucked me.”

 

“What about since then?  Has anything changed?”

 

“I stopped resisting for one.  It’s pointless, he’s too strong.” Kurapika shook his head, before wryly adding, “but, in fact, he’s quite good in bed, and even charming sometimes.  He even called me his lover the other night.”

 

“And it’s always been him initiating?”

 

“Well, yeah.  I always thought he saw me as his toy to play with, and when he’s finished, he leaves.”  Kurapika twiddled his chains awkwardly.  

 

Shizuku nodded in contemplation, taking in the information.  She grabbed his shoulder, taking his attention.  He slowly turned to look her in the eyes.  “You are not a toy, Kurapika.  So don’t have sex like one.  With what you’re telling me, it sounds like the attraction is not one sided.  Was Chrollo your first time?”

 

With widened eyes, Kurapika nodded.  He’d never thought about it that way before.

 

“I see.”  She paused.  “That makes sense.  Then, why don’t you try spicing things up for once?  Show him that you like him as well.  Don’t let him get bored.”

 

Kurapika fell silent, thinking about what Shizuku had proposed.   _Spice things up, huh?  Interesting._  The proposition was yet another new concept the spiders had introduced him to.  “I think I see what you’re saying,” Kurapika finally said, nodding.  “But what if he’s not into it?”

 

Shizuku smiled, a small laugh escaping her lips.  “I don’t think you need to worry about that.”

 

“Okay.  Thank you, Shizuku.  I appreciate it.”

 

“Of course.  Is there anything else you need?”

 

Kurapika was already thinking of a plan of action.  “Yeah.  Which one of these rooms is Chrollo’s?”

 

Shizuku stood up.  “Out this door, last room on the left.  I’ll leave you to it,” she said, winking as she exited the room.

 

* * *

 

During his working hours, Leorio had been using every spare moment he had to go through old police records and footage, trying to find any possible clue.  Kurapika’s court case would proceed in a week, whether or not he was there to defend himself.  The problem was, if Kurapika was deemed guilty he’d be put in prison once found.  Gon and Killua’s internet research while Leorio was at work had at least uncovered a few details about ways Kurapika could be found innocent, if they were able to find him in time.  He just needed some witnesses of his character, and plausible deniability that the killings were in self defense.  Since the people he’d killed were already trespassing in the basement of the Met, and even impersonating a security guard, Kurapika had a fighting chance.  If they could prove that the woman had killed the other security guard there, and Kurapika acted in defense of either that man or himself, then he’d be declared innocent.

 

Leorio was currently looking over old footage from random places.  He looked down to check his watch.  He had about two hours before his shift ended, and was determined to find something--anything that could possibly help.  When he looked back up to the video he saw a flash of a face, catching his attention.  He quickly pushed his glasses up and rewinded the footage.  That face… that face… He paused, zooming in on that familiar face.  It was a woman with a rather substantial nose, sitting at a cafe with two other men.  Innocent enough but… He pulled up his facial recognition software.  A match.   That woman was the one Kurapika had killed!  Taking note of the date, he quickly entered the numbers into an internet search, whistling as the results showed that it was the same date of the infamous Jersey Heist.   This was too convenient to be just a coincidence.  Going back to the footage he zoomed in on the two men with her, and ran his facial recognition software again.  The first came up empty, making Leorio click his teeth.  He decided to try the other face, and to his luck, it pulled up a match--the other guy Kurapika had killed!  

 

He spent the rest of his time at the office finding dates of public Troupe heists and digging through security footage from that cafe matching those dates.  He found two others with the woman and one other with the man, only appearing a few hours before the heist supposedly took place--compelling evidence.  

 

This news could only mean one thing: the people killed were members of the Phantom Troupe.  They were so underground that Leorio hadn’t been able to find any trace of them aside from this obscure security footage.  Leorio furrowed his brow as he realized this meant Kurapika had attempted to face these people alone, without even so much as a word to his friends.  

 

Nevermind that though: there was now hope.  Now that he had this connection, he was fairly confident if he presented the evidence to a qualified lawyer, Kurapika would be found innocent.  He had to call Gon and Killua to tell them the news.  He packed up his things and shrugged a coat on before leaving the office for the day, pulling out his cellphone.  As he approached the train station, he wore a bright smile of relief.  He had finished typing the numbers and was about to press call when suddenly there was a tap on his shoulder.  

 

 _If it’s those damn street solicitors again,_ Leorio thought.

 

Leorio, now off duty, and relieved of the forced niceties his occupation required, whipped his head around and was about to tell the guy to fuck off.  But surprisingly, the man spoke before him.  “Excuse me sir,” he said.  He had bright red hair, with a white face and strange looking symbols on his cheek.  “You wouldn’t happen to be a friend of Kurapika K, would you?”

 

Leorio froze for a moment.  “What’s it to you?”

 

“I might be able to help you locate him.”

 

Leorio sputtered in disbelief.  He’d heard nothing for months, and now suddenly this freakshow was here, claiming he knew shit about Kurapika.  “Who the hell are you?” Leorio retorted.

 

The man smirked.  “Someone who has information you need.  Kurapika has fallen into a… web of sorts.  A web controlled by a spider with rather perverse intentions.  I hope, for your sake, he hasn’t lost all of his dignity yet.”  The statement was followed by a lick of the lips, then creepy wink that sent shivers down Leorio’s spine.  What was this lunatic insinuating?  The thought of criminals touching Kurapika sent waves of anger through him.

 

“Tell me what you know,” Leorio growled at the man.  

 

With another harrowing smile the man said, “There’s an underground auction at the Court Hotel in Square Times tomorrow night.  Go there if you want to find him.”  And with a turn of his heel the clown-man walked away, ignoring Leorio’s desperate shouts in his direction.  

 

Once the man disappeared out of his vision, Leorio called Killua’s cell phone number with shaky hands.  

 

_Hello? Old man?_

 

“Hey.  I have news.  I found out at work that the people Kurapika killed were Phantom Troupe members.  Then, I was just approached by some freaky looking clown dude who told me he knows how we can find him.”

 

There was a pause on the other end, then: _Clown dude?  What did he look like?_

 

“I don’t know--tall, red hair, teardrop and star marks on his cheek?”

 

Leorio heard a gasp from the other line.   _Hisoka.  Holy shit.  That’s Illumi’s friend._

 

“Your brother, Illumi?”  Leorio asked in confusion.

 

_Yeah.  The dude’s absolutely insane.  What did he tell you?_

 

“He told me we should go to an auction tomorrow night at Square Times.”

 

There were mutters on the other line, presumably Killua was saying something to Gon, throwing in some curses as he did.   _As much as I don’t like it,_ Killua said finally, _Hisoka has been known to be helpful at times.  This is our best shot at finding Kurapika._

 

Leorio sighed.  “I’m thinking so too.  It’s all we’ve got left to try.”  

 

There was more muttering from the other end, then, _Gon and I just thought of a plan, old man.  Head back to the station and we’ll tell you what we need you to grab._

 

* * *

 

The warm water of the shower coating Kurapika’s body was a stark contrast to his fiery nerves.  He washed his hair, tangling his hands through his own blond locks.  Chrollo had given him three pairs of scarlet eyes.  The fact alone simultaneously warmed his heart and sent chills down his spine, as he reflected on his memories of his clansmen.  They were dead, yes, and dead things were just that--dead.  The lifeless scarlet rings surrounding dark pupils had filled him with bittersweet emotion.  Whose eyes were they?  Kurapika had no way of knowing.  It wasn’t as if Marcus, Uvogin, and friends had cared enough to get their names before taking their lives.  Kurapika understood why now.  The Kurta, though a tribe of peace to the extent of his knowledge, were just a means to an end for the runaways from Meteor City.  Kurapika understood now that if none of this had ever happened, if his clan had not been slaughtered by the notorious gang called the Phantom Troupe, he could have lived his entire life in ignorance of the corruption that underpinned their society.  He would have continued on thinking that people like Shalnark, Shizuku, and Chrollo were nothing but soulless demons wreaking aimless havoc on good people, and deserved to be destroyed.  As he turned off the water and stepped out of the shower he thought, for a moment, about the humbling knowledge and introspection his tragedy had brought him.  And in that moment, he was truly grateful.  

 

He toweled off his hair, then pulled on some underwear, followed by dark trousers.  He attached his chain to his belt loop, then covered his torso with a dark grey T-Shirt.  A long-sleeved, tan colored button up top left open like a jacket completed the look.  Returning to the bathroom he hung up his towel, then picked up his earring from the counter, attaching it to his ear.   As he looked in the mirror, he ran a hand through the kinks in his hair until it smoothed out, framing his face.  It was growing out, and on closer inspection he realized he had also grown a bit of patchy facial hair in his time here.  He usually shaved long before he got to this point, but he hadn’t exactly been focusing on his looks lately.  The blond patches of scruff had to go.  He shuffled through the drawers in the bathroom until he found what he was looking for--a razor and shaving cream.  After he finished shaving, the man took a deep breath, trying to think of what else he needed to do to prepare.  He returned the shaving tools back to the drawer and was about to close it when a small bottle caught his attention.  Cologne.  The bottle’s description noted hints of lavender, coumarin and oak moss.  Kurapika didn’t know much about these things, but he figured that it couldn’t hurt.  He sprayed a bit on his neck and chest, then on his wrists.  The fragrant scent filled his nose with a woody, crisp aroma, and with a final look in the mirror he was decently satisfied, deciding this was as good as it was going to get.

 

He peeked out of the door to his room, checking to make sure he wouldn’t have any tense encounters with Machi or Nobunaga before he quietly slipped outside.  Kurapika turned, looking down the hallway before starting his journey the hall.  The walk was surprisingly short, and before he could count to fifteen he’d reached what could only be the ever elusive last-door-on-the-left.  This was it.  This was Chrollo’s room.  He suddenly felt heavy, nervous.  The precariousness of this plan had him looking back towards where he came from, nearly wanting to turn back and hide in his room.  Oddly enough, he was more nervous now than when he’d attempted to take down the Troupe by himself months ago at the Met.  

 

 _Is this even a good idea?_ He wondered wryly.  Either way, he wasn’t about to back out now.  He took a deep breath, before raising his hand to knock three times.  

 

The few seconds it took for Chrollo to answer the door felt like an hour, until finally there was an agonizingly slow turn of a knob, and the shrill creaking of old hinges.  

 

“Kurapika,” the man said with wide eyes, “What a pleasant surprise.  Come on in.” He had a book in his left hand, thumb wedged between the pages.  

 

“Oh sorry, did I interrupt your reading?” Kurapika asked.

 

“No, I was just about to stop anyways.” Chrollo stepped away from the door frame and beckoned Kurapika to follow him inside.  “Would you like a glass of wine?”

 

Kurapika just nodded as he took in his new surroundings, shutting the door behind him.  Chrollo’s room was large, larger than his own, with interesting art on the walls.  The lights were off, with only a reading lamp and candles giving off a subtle glow.  The most intriguing part of the room, however, was the area containing three bookshelves stocked full of books, tucked in to a corner that was separate from the rest of the room.  Chrollo handed Kurapika his glass of wine, before pouring one for himself.  “Please, sit anywhere you like.”

 

“Thank you.”  Kurapika decided to sit on a chair positioned in front of a small table on the left of the room.  Once Chrollo finished pouring his glass he took a seat on the other side of the table.  Kurapika took in the sight of him, sipping from his glass full of red liquid.  He looked different tonight--relaxing in his casual attire.  He wore just a navy long sleeved shirt and black joggers, but somehow he still managed to look more beautiful than ever before.  Kurapika set his glass down on the table and turned towards the Spider leader, placing both his hands flat on the table.  He then spoke, being the first to break the silence between them.

 

“Tell me about Uvogin and Pakunoda.  What were they like?”

 

Chrollo looked over at Kurapika, eyebrows raising as he set down his wine glass.  “Why the sudden interest?”

 

Kurapika shrugged.  “Curiosity.”  Chrollo eyed Kurapika incredulously, pausing for a moment before he spoke.

 

“Alright.  Hmm… where to start…” Chrollo looked towards the expanse of his room in contemplation. “Well, they had been around since the inception of the Troupe, back before we escaped Meteor City.  I was young then, only twelve years old.  Uvogin was seventeen at the time, and I looked up to him.  We became friends almost immediately when I was sent to the orphanage.  I think he saw potential in me, because he took me under his wing, teaching me how to fight and steal.  He had this loud, infectious, boisterous personality that was never dull to be around.  He and Nobunaga were very close, and they were planning their next big trip together when he died, getting excited about all the loot they planned to raid.”  Chrollo’s lips turned up slightly at the fond memory of his good friend.  But that smile quickly faded, replaced by a numb look in his eyes.  “I always thought of him as the older brother I never had.”

 

That struck a chord deep in Kurapika’s chest.  “So your family died as well?”

 

“Yes.  My mother died in childbirth and my father died from illness, after working in a factory with hazardous chemicals for too many years.”

 

“I see,” Kurapika said, looking down at the dark red liquid filling his wine glass.  “And Pakunoda?” he managed to ask.

 

The look on Chrollo’s face grew more melancholic.  “Like a sister,” he said.  Kurapika took another sip of his wine as the dull ache in his chest deepened.  “She was fifteen when I met her.  She always had a way of knowing if you were lying, no matter how skilled a deceiver you were. Her interests were cats and cafe’s.  We visited every cat cafe in YorkNew together, and before she passed we had plans to visit the new bookstore cafe on 23rd Street.”  

 

Wait, the new bookstore on 23rd?  Kurapika’s mind briefly flashed with a memory of Leorio inviting him to go there with him when they were out on patrol.  He never did end up going there with his friend--this fact was another strange thing he had in common with Chrollo.  

 

Chrollo’s eyes suddenly looked dry, filled with even more vulnerability.  Quietly, he added, “she taught me to read.”

 

Kurapika caught Chrollo’s hand across the table, his eyes beginning to glisten with moisture.  “I’m so sorry, Chrollo.  So, so sorry.  They didn’t deserve to die.  If I could go back, I--”

 

Chrollo cut him off, tangling their fingers together.  “No.  It’s alright.  You were doing what you thought you had to do.  I can’t fault you for that.”

 

“Still, I regret my actions that night.  I had no right to take them from you.”

 

Chrollo composed himself completely before looking at Kurapika with those enchanting dark eyes.  “I said it’s okay, Kurapika.  It’s okay.”

 

Kurapika blinked heavily.  He would not cry tonight over what happened in the past.  Not wanting to get completely lost in Chrollo’s gaze yet, he looked down again at his glass.  With his free hand, he brought the cup to his mouth, finishing off the wine.  

 

“Would you like another?” Chrollo asked, moving to stand up.

 

“That’s okay, I’ll get it,” Kurapika said, as he picked up his and Chrollo’s glasses.  

 

“Okay. Thanks,” Chrollo said as he noticed Kurapika filling up his cup.

 

Kurapika returned to his seat, and handed Chrollo his cup.  He reached back over the table to entwine his left hand with Chrollo’s.  

 

“I wanted to thank you for bringing me those pairs of eyes.  Words cannot express how truly grateful I am--how much it means to me.”

 

Chrollo finished his sip of wine then turned himself so he was completely facing Kurapika.  He then reached for Kurapika’s other hand, squeezing both of them tightly before sending a look into the Kurta’s eyes that made his heart race.

 

“I will find and return every last pair to you, Kurapika.  I swear it,” he said lowly, earnestly: such that Kurapika couldn’t take it anymore.  Tonight Chrollo was just too much, too amazing.  He got out of his seat, waltzing right over to Chrollo’s chair, and sat on his lap, facing him.  Chrollo immediately wrapped his arms tightly around Kurapika’s waist, pulling him closer.  With Chrollo underneath him Kurapika started to feel tension building.  He wanted more.  He wanted to taste those plump lips he was now staring directly at, and he wanted to feel every inch of Chrollo’s incredible body.  The urgency took over as Kurapika slipped one trembling hand underneath Chrollo’s arm, grasping at the fabric of his loose shirt covering his back.  The other reached around to wind deep into Chrollo’s black hair, tugging at the strands.  With a forceful press on Chrollo’s head he leaned down to capture his lips, realizing he could never have enough of this new feeling.

 

First the kiss was just a soft press of closed lips, but Kurapika’s insistent tongue quickly penetrated into Chrollo’s mouth, earning a tight pull on his back that sent shivers down his spine.  Tonight Chrollo tasted of the fine red wine they’d been drinking, the bite of the alcohol still fresh and delicious on their tongues.  Chrollo’s teeth gave a gentle tug on his lips, making Kurapika groan softly, lowly.  He returned the action while running his fingers up and down Chrollo’s spine, earning a new moan from the man that drove him wild.  Kurapika had had enough of the careful gentleness that he was used to receiving from Chrollo, and he pushed the kiss harder, deeper, until their heads swam with dizziness and they needed to break for air.  Kurapika’s hands were everywhere now, on Chrollo’s arms, neck, and shoulders, but it wasn’t enough.  He still needed more.  With fervent urgency he lifted Chrollo’s shirt up and over his head, tossing it on the floor before he shrugged his own tan button up off his shoulders, exposing his dark shirt.  He ran his hands over Chrollo’s bare arms, taking in the feel of his warm toned flesh.  Chrollo then lifted Kurapika’s shirt off of him and pressed the pads of his fingers into Kurapika’s lower back.  With both of their bare, toned chests pressed together the heat was unbearable, like molten lava had replaced the blood in Kurapika’s veins.  He pressed downward on Chrollo until their hips thrust together, moving forward and backward, creating friction between the fabric that covered their lower halves.  He groaned as he moved his hips on the hardness between them.  It felt so good, so hot, he was on fire.  

 

“You smell good,” Chrollo mused breathily.  Kurapika just smiled against his lips.  That spritz of cologne had paid off.

 

Chrollo moved his hands to grip underneath Kurapika’s thighs, and lifted upwards, pulling Kurapika to a standing position.  “Shall we take this to the bed?” he asked as he popped the top button of Kurapika’s pants out of its socket, and pulled down his zipper.  

 

“Yes.  But,” Kurapika started, beginning to blush as a wave of nervousness hit.  He wasn’t quite sure how to ask this.  “I was hoping I could try something with you tonight… Something new.”

 

Kurapika stepped closer to Chrollo, pulling him into a tight embrace.  Chrollo bent slightly to press a kiss in Kurapika’s nape, before saying “And what might that be?” into his ear.

 

Kurapika’s hands moved towards Chrollo’s lower back, hovering just above his ass.  “You wouldn’t happen to still have my handcuffs, would you?”  He slipped his hand underneath Chrollo’s sweatpants, giving a light squeeze to his buttocks.  

 

Chrollo’s eyes widened slightly at the forwardness.  “I might…” he said, starting to get the picture.  “You want me to tie you up?”  Kurapika pulled back slightly.

 

“No,” he said, looking at Chrollo’s flushed face.  

 

“No?”  Chrollo expression turned confused.  

 

“No.  Actually, I was hoping I might be the one to do that.”  Blushing, Kurapika added, “I want to see you chained to the bed.  If you’re worried about me trying anything you can give the key to Machi, or whoever.”

 

Chrollo blinked, then raised his eyebrows.  He had definitely not been expecting this from the blond in front of him.  After a moment of contemplation, he nodded slowly, saying, “Okay, Kurapika.  We can try it.”  As he retreated from their embrace to find the cuffs he added, “And I think you know by now that anything you try to pull will backfire.”

 

Kurapika waited awkwardly while Chrollo retrieved the item from his closet, pants still undone on his body.  He almost couldn’t believe this was happening, that this gorgeous, sexy man was about to let him tie him up on his bed.  He took a deep breath, attempting to calm his excitement as Chrollo returned, holding the handcuffs out for Kurapika to take.  At that, Kurapika then gestured toward the mattress expectantly, for Chrollo to climb on to it.  Chrollo shook his head with a small smile, and a chuckle escaped his lips as he did what he was told, scooting until his back was pressed against the headboard.  When Kurapika hesitated slightly, taking his time as he approached, Chrollo said, “What are you waiting for?  Chain me up, Kurapika.”  

 

He certainly didn’t need to be told twice.  In a fluid motion he grabbed Chrollo’s wrists and pulled them upwards until he found an opening where he could hook the handcuffs behind a pole in the headboard.  Chrollo’s seductive and lusty bedroom eyes didn’t stray from his face as he clicked one cuff around a wrist and wrapped the other behind the pole.  He always did have a thing for chaining criminals up, but this was his first time where both he and the criminal were enjoying it.  With a final click Chrollo was locked in place in the middle of the bed, and Kurapika finished by detaching his chain from his belt loop to wrap it around the wrists and through the headboard, for maximum effect.  Kurapika sat back on the bed for a moment, admiring his work.  Chrollo looked better than he could have imagined tied up on that bed, quite vulnerable with his lips parted and expression anticipatory of what Kurapika might do next.

 

The Kurta then proceeded to remove Chrollo’s sweatpants.  Hands sliding up Chrollo’s thighs he paused when he reached the top of Chrollo’s underwear, then hooked his fingers underneath the elastic and pulled down.  Chrollo’s erection looked like it needed some attention after their pause in activity, so Kurapika took it in his fist, running his thumb up and down the length of it, pausing at the tip.  Kurapika couldn’t help the smirk that followed as he listened to the man’s hitched breathing, watching his cock stiffen at his touch.  Slipping his own pants off, he leaned up over Chrollo’s body and took his mouth again in a wet, sloppy kiss, grinding their hips together.  

 

He took the liberty to explore Chrollo’s soft skin with his hands, and paused over his chest, feeling Chrollo’s nipples protrude as he played with them.  Kurapika was thoroughly pleased at the total control he had; Chrollo’s fit body was his to explore tonight.  Lowering himself down, he pressed light kisses to Chrollo’s jaw, then his neck.  Chrollo tilted his head to the side, leaving room for Kurapika to dart his tongue over the hot skin as he sucked gently, both of them letting out soft moans of pleasure as Kurapika continued to rock into Chrollo’s hips.  Kurapika then gave attention to Chrollo’s nipples, starting with a light squeezing of his fingertips.  

 

The slow torture of inexperienced hands touching Chrollo in all the right places had him visibly squirming underneath Kurapika.  It felt good, there was no denying it, but it wasn’t enough.  Despite having been subjected to torture before, this slow teasing somehow seemed infinitely more unbearable tonight.  Chrollo needed more, but his pride would not allow him to voice it.  Kurapika’s mouth was on his nipple now, teeth erotically grazing the sensitive flesh, eliciting another sensuous moan, making Chrollo thrust up against Kurapika’s length.  Kurapika’s hands were stroking him everywhere: his chest, his sides, his hips, his thighs, as if feeling his soft skin for the first time, driving him crazy.

 

Kurapika moved down to his abdomen, taking his time spreading kisses against the toned, smooth skin before pausing above Chrollo’s exposed dick.  He licked it once like a lollipop, testing.  When Chrollo’s thighs twitched and he breathed a soft moan, it was more than enough encouragement to continue his experimentation.  Although he’d never given a blowjob before, he figured Chrollo and pornography had taught him enough to get by.  He pressed his tongue in Chrollo’s slit, before taking the tip into his mouth, letting saliva run down the sides of the length.  He started pumping the bottom half with his right hand, reaching his left around to squeeze Chrollo’s plump ass.  Then, with a deep breath he took the plunge, engulfing as much of Chrollo’s erection as he could in his mouth while gauging the man’s reaction with his eyes.  Chrollo’s eyebrows furrowed initially, and Kurapika didn’t know if that was good or bad.

 

“Am I doing this right?” he asked as he continued pumping with his right hand.  

 

“Sort of,” Chrollo replied through heavy breathing.  He then blushed, as if he didn’t want to admit what was wrong.  After a moment he said, “less teeth would be nice.”

 

“Less teeth.  Got it,” Kurapika tried not to look embarrassed, as his inexperience was showing again.  He didn’t want to fuck this up.  He pushed his hair out of his face and paused for a moment.  Running his hand up and down Chrollo’s thigh again he hesitantly went back down, being careful to keep his lips covering his teeth.  Chrollo hummed gently in pleasure, encouraging him to continue.  He continued to slide down the length with his mouth; maybe he could fit the whole thing in.  With a lewd choke, he had to pull away, as he’d just hit his gag reflex and needed a moment to compose himself.  

 

Chrollo, watching Kurapika’s attempt to deep throat couldn’t hold back his chuckle as he saw him gag.  “Yeah… that’ll happen sometimes.  Don’t feel like you have to take it all in at once.”  He suddenly wished his hands were free, so he could run his fingers through the blond’s silky hair.  He watched Kurapika moving down again, before his eyes settled on the underwear that the man still wore.  The Spider leader was getting impatient with the slow pace, and was ready to see Kurapika riding him.  `“Aren’t you going to prepare yourself?” he asked suddenly, “If you need it, there’s lubricant in the nightstand.”

 

Kurapika gave him an unreadable look, before smirking.  “Actually,” he said, as he swept his hand from Chrollo’s hipbone to caress underneath his ass, sliding a finger over his entrance.  

 

“Oh.”  Chrollo turned his head to the side, but it didn’t hide the deep shade of red that now dusted his cheeks.  Kurapika, blushing lightly as well, was beginning to wonder if this was a bad plan.  After an agonizing moment, Chrollo surprised him by saying, “well, in that case, you should really grab the lubricant, because I haven’t done this in a while.”

 

Kurapika’s eyes widened in pleasant surprise; he was half expecting Chrollo to shut him down.  He nodded, but answered, “in a moment,” before he hoisted Chrollo’s legs up, hooking them above his shoulders.  He ducked his head beneath his thighs, folding the pretty man up on himself.  

 

“You are full of surprises tonight, Kurapika,” Chrollo mused, a smile forming on his face.  Kurapika gave him a final smirk before turning his attention towards the flesh beneath him.  He thought back to the way he’d been pleasured like this their first night together, and was ready to try licking the exposed hole.  He swiped his tongue across the entrance, taking note of Chrollo’s taste.  It was better than he’d expected, though he was more concerned with giving pleasure than critiquing the flavor.  He pulled Chrollo’s cheeks wide before swirling his tongue in a circle, pleased with the light moan he’d earned from the man.  He continued flicking his tongue, making sure to get the area sufficiently moist before he prodded the hole, enjoying the pressure encircling his tongue.  Chrollo’s ass was wet now, and he desperately couldn’t wait to feel it wrapped around his member.  

 

Kurapika gently set Chrollo’s thighs down, detangling himself from underneath the man.  He rose to his knees then hopped off the mattress towards the direction of said nightstand.  When he’d retrieved the lubricant he wasted no time moving his shaky hands to pop open the cap and squeeze a tiny amount into his palm.  He rolled two fingers in the substance, then moved back to the bed, closing the cap and taking the bottle with him.  Getting into the same position as before with a folded up Chrollo he gave his entrance one more lick before slowly inserting a finger, head pressed against Chrollo’s cheek.  Chrollo hummed, getting used to the feeling, while Kurapika’s cock twitched at the new feeling of Chrollo’s tight flesh wrapped around his finger.  He carefully started moving inside of Chrollo, prodding in and out, watching his finger penetrate the entrance, Chrollo’s back arching with the intrusion.  When he started hearing soft noises of pleasure from the man he slipped in his second finger.  Chrollo hissed at the uncomfortable stretching, making Kurapika pause.  After a moment Chrollo said, “keep going,” and Kurapika began to move again at a slightly faster pace, feeling the area inside until he hit a spot that made Chrollo groan in pleasure.  Smirking again, Kurapika figured he was probably ready to take him.

 

Sitting up, he pulled off his underwear, revealing his hard erection.  He reached again for the lubricant bottle and slathered a small amount onto his dick before making eye contact with Chrollo who was watching him with careful, hazy eyes.  He really did look amazing with his hands bound above his head and legs spread for Kurapika.  Kurapika positioned himself in front of Chrollo’s entrance, then slowly pushed forward, hands reaching around to hold onto Chrollo’s hips as he pressed his tip inside.  With a gasp, Chrollo watched as Kurapika filled him, stretching him out painfully slowly.  “Thrust,” he commanded, and Kurapika looked at him before nodding and pushed his cock all the way inside.  

 

Kurapika let out a groan of pleasure as he felt the tight, wet flesh wrapped around him.  It felt even better than he could have possibly imagined.  He leaned over Chrollo, and their lips met in a wonderful, messy kiss as he rocked back for another slow thrust.  “You feel so good, Chrollo,” he breathed against his lover’s mouth.  

 

Chrollo’s lips turned up slightly as he bucked his hips up to match Kurapika’s movements.  “You can go faster.  I can take it.”

 

With Chrollo’s words of encouragement Kurapika picked up the pace slightly, holding Chrollo’s shoulder for support.  They were both moaning between breaths, skin hot and flushed.  They didn’t break eye contact.  

 

“More, Kurapika,” Chrollo commanded.  “Go harder.  Faster.”

 

Kurapika did as he was told, until the sound of skin hitting skin filled the room.  Chrollo was beautiful underneath him, with teal earrings framing his face, his dark hair messily disheveled, those parted, swollen lips, and flushed, sweaty skin.  Chrollo was moving to match Kurapika’s thrusts, his experience allowing them to find a unique, synchronous rhythm as they moaned against each others mouths with passion and heat.  Chrollo was getting closer, and Kurapika wanted to see him lose control, see him spill first this time.  Leaning back slightly, Kurapika freed his left hand to grasp around Chrollo’s dick, jerking as he continued to thrust into him.  Chrollo’s moans were unabashed now: sexy, loud, and hoarse; Kurapika felt himself approaching orgasm as well.  He was so hot and couldn’t think properly, as wave after wave of pleasure filled his body.  He let his free hand find its way up to Chrollo’s head, tracing across his cheek before tangling into his soft, dark hair.  Leaning back down, he pressed his bare skin against Chrollo’s body, face nuzzling into his neck as Chrollo wrapped his legs around the blond, wrists still pinned above his head.  Their movements became desperate, a feverish desire and hunger taking control.

 

“Ah, Kurapika…” Chrollo moaned as his cock twitched, shooting white, sticky bursts of cum in the space between their bodies.  Kurapika, felt Chrollo’s muscles tighten around him as he came; despite thinking that things couldn’t get any hotter between them, he was unbelievably turned on by the sight.  The man was maddeningly addictive, and Kurapika knew he would never have enough.  With a few final thrusts he captured Chrollo’s lips again, white hot pleasure sending him over the edge as he moaned deeply into the kiss.  He came, filling the inside of this dark angel, claiming him as his own.  

 

Kurapika pulled out moments later, as the rush of pleasure wore off.  Chrollo’s wrists were white around where the cuffs held them in place, and he decided he should probably free him from his bondage.  He fished the key from the table and popped open the cuffs, unhooking his chain as he did so.  Chrollo’s free arms immediately wrapped around Kurapika, pulling him to lie on top of his chest for a moment, stroking the blond’s soft hair, despite the cum and sweat slick on the skin between them.  

 

“How’d I do?” the blond asked against Chrollo’s skin.  

 

Chrollo pressed a kiss to his hair before answering, “Amazingly well, actually.  You are very sexy, Kurapika.”

 

Kurapika perked his head up to plant another kiss on Chrollo’s lips.  “You too,” he said, smiling. “I suppose we should get cleaned up, yeah?”

 

“Mmm, yeah.”  Chrollo lifted underneath Kurapika’s arms to sit both of them up.  “Follow me.” he rose from the bed.  

 

He followed Chrollo into the bathroom and watched as he turned on the rain-style shower.  They a few seconds for the water to heat up then stepped inside.  They took their time soaping each other up, suds running down their bodies until they finally fell down the drain.  Showering like this, together, was so warm, intimate, and casual.  Kurapika wondered what it would be like if every night were like this--showering alone was quite boring, in comparison.  With a click, Chrollo turned the shower off, quick to hand him a towel before telling him to hang on while he found some clothes for Kurapika to wear.  Since they were only two inches height difference, they were able to share clothes, despite the fabric hanging rather loosely on Kurapika’s body.  The two quickly found their way back to the bed, climbing under the covers, legs entwined.  

 

Kurapika tangled their fingers together, the dim lighting just enough to notice the fresh bruises forming on Chrollo’s wrists where he’d been bound earlier.  He traced his fingers over the skin of his wrist bone before muttering, “oh dear, you’re going to have a mark there.  Does it hurt?”

 

Chrollo just shook his head before gently kissing Kurapika.  “Don’t worry, it was well worth it.”  

 

Kurapika said “okay,” before Chrollo took him in another kiss, then another, and another.

 

“Chrollo,” Kurapika breathed between kisses.

 

“Hmm?” Kurapika could feel the vibration of Chrollo’s hum on his lips. He gave them another quick peck before moving to kiss Kurapika’s cheeks, forehead, and hair, letting him talk.

 

“I️ ahh—“ Kurapika took a second to compose his thought as Chrollo’s face nuzzled into his neck, his hair tickling his skin. “I think I’m ready to join the Troupe.”

 

Chrollo lips stopped for a moment as he untangled his hands from underneath Kurapika.  He moved his hands up to frame Kurapika’s face, looking him straight in the eyes. As he studied Kurapika’s eyes, he saw nothing but earnest determination in them.

 

Chrollo pressed his lips once more to Kurapika’s forehead. “I’m thrilled by your decision,” he murmured into Kurapika’s flushed skin. “Then you’ll join our preparations in the morning, and come out with us tomorrow night.  We’ll be taking the items to be sold at the mafia auction.” Kurapika watched as Chrollo lips grew into a smile of satisfaction. He was so gorgeous when he smiled, Kurapika couldn’t even believe it.

 

The look on Chrollo’s face made Kurapika’s heart swell. He wanted to show his dedication, to please Chrollo. “Sure thing, boss,” he said, as he couldn’t help but smile back, blushing.

 

Chrollo’s eyes closed for a moment, and his laughter rang like bells in Kurapika’s ears. When he opened them again, he looked Kurapika directly in the eye. “I look forward to working with you.”

 

“Likewise.” Kurapika caressed his toned arm muscles, before remembering there was one other thing he wanted to ask.  “You are so strong,” he mused.  “I don’t understand it.  Could you teach me your techniques sometime?  I want to be able to fight like that.”

 

With a hum Chrollo replied, “Absolutely,” and Kurapika smiled softly, eyes now growing heavy with tiredness.  

 

The kisses slowly tapered off, as the two grew more lethargic, drifting off.  For the first time, they spent the whole night in each other’s arms, tangled up in Chrollo’s bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you didn't expect Pika to top! And that facial hair! *laughs evilly* (I can't believe I wrote that) 
> 
> This chapter... oh boy this chapter. Don't really have much else to say, other than I hope you got your fill of lusty, inexperienced, awkward Kurapika and PowerBottom!Chrollo. Oh, and that I hope you liked all that marshmallow-y fluff. Please leave a comment with thoughts, feelings, anything really, I wanna hear what you think!
> 
> Preview for next time: Kurapika prepares with the Troupe, then goes on his first heist.


	8. Preparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think we've loved a thousand lives
> 
> I try to find you every time
> 
> Searching for those same wide eyes
> 
> That locked me in, in my first life
> 
> Do you remember my old names?
> 
> Recognize my other face?
> 
> We're both hanging in picture frames
> 
> Somewhere in this place
> 
> But my stare at you stayed the same
> 
> (Same Soul - PVRIS)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone...... 
> 
> 1\. i'm sorry for making u wait 
> 
> 2\. was gonna make this and the auction one chapter, but tbh, I don't know what's going to happen at the auction and it really backtracked me from starting this chapter for the longest time
> 
> 3\. i'm back :) pls enjoy this chapter

A pressure on his lips made Kurapika slowly blink open his eyes.  It was Chrollo, their lips pressed together in a chaste kiss.

 

“Good morning, Kurapika,” he said.  He gave Kurapika time to slowly sit up and rub his eyes, adjusting to the light Chrollo flipped on.  “We’ve got a lot of preparations to do today, so put these on.” He gestured towards folded clothes lying on the foot of the bed.   

 

“Um, alright.” Last night’s events were trickling back into Kurapika’s foggy morning brain.  He had fucked Chrollo, told him he’d join the Troupe, and then fell asleep in his bed. Scarlet dusted his cheeks when he realized he was still half naked, and that Chrollo had not only woken up first but already dressed himself.  “Sorry. I don’t usually oversleep,” he added as he started getting ready.

 

“Don’t worry, we’ve got time.”  Chrollo glanced at him through the corner of his eye as he put away some clothes.  He then sat down and started skimming a book while waiting, until he remembered something important.  “I need to brief you on what’s happening tonight.”

 

“Alright.” But Chrollo paused when he met Kurapika’s eyes, and chuckled lightly.  “What?”

 

“Look in the mirror,” Chrollo said, getting up to follow Kurapika as he walked towards the mirror.  When Kurapika turned towards the reflective surface a deep shade of red spread across his face. His blond hair was disheveled, sticking up in all directions and matted in the back.  The worst case of bedhead he’s ever had. He frantically tried to smooth it down in the front and back while Chrollo watched with an amused smirk.

 

“Don’t just stand there!  Don’t you have like a comb or something?”  Kurapika said, narrowing his eyes at the man.

 

“Alright, alright, I’ll get you one.  But I think it’s cute this way.” He ruffled Kurapika’s bed head a bit.  Kurapika just glared in response. With his hands up and backing away, Chrollo finally fetched a comb.  As Kurapika smoothed down his hair Chrollo started the briefing.

 

“So, this event is a mafia auction.  The people that will be there have ties with many government organizations and corporations.  They constantly lobby for their agenda. A big part of that agenda is to keep Meteor the way it is now, so they can continue using it to their benefit.  Our intent is to take all of the items to be put on auction tonight.”

 

“... I see.”  Kurapika had not heard much of the mafia before this moment.  In his police work it was rare to hear of mafia members committing crimes or being put on trial-- it must be because of their intensive lobbying of the government.  In other words, if a mafia member is caught doing illegal activity, they are unlikely to face repercussions due to the government protection. Kurapika was now seeing that the corruption ran deeper than he could have imagined. If these mafia members were keeping Meteor in its dire state, they must be stopped at all costs.  

 

“The police force is no exception to their governmental influence.  They often avoid being under investigation, even deciding who gets charged for crimes that reach the courts.  Of course, it’s never themselves, despite their constant criminal activity.”

 

Kurapika nodded.  “Makes sense. Looking back on it now, it’s strange that I didn’t notice any of this before.”  He now was able to recall a few times in the police force where he’d catch a criminal completely red handed, stealing something, yet he’d read an article in the YorkNew Times later about how the criminal was found not guilty.  Actually, until now, he’d all but forgotten about it.

 

Chrollo looked at him, nodding.  “That’s the problem. When you want to hold a strong belief, for instance, that the courts and government are generally just institutions, something strange happens.  Your brain will conveniently brush off the times that the government acted unjustly. Meanwhile, when the government does act with justice, your brain will remember these times, and your beliefs will be reaffirmed.”

 

“It’s confirmation bias,” Kurapika breathed, as a wave of realization flooded him.  He’d read about this phenomenon before, mostly about how it applies to religion. Like most people, he didn’t believe it would affect him too until recently.

 

“Exactly.  And this nation has it badly.” A smile lit up Chrollo’s face, tinted with pride.  “You’ll do well today. Also, tonight there will be a pair of scarlet eyes up for auction.  We’ll be taking them too.”

 

Kurapika’s eyes lit up at that.  “Thank you.”

 

Chrollo stood up, and gestured to the door.  “I’ll explain more details with the rest of the Troupe.  Are you ready?”

 

“Yes, I believe I am.”

 

“Then, after you, Kurapika.”

 

* * *

 

_The previous night_

 

“Kurapika, what a pleasant surprise.  Please, come in.”

 

Peeking around the corner, Machi watched with resentment as Chrollo opened his door, allowing Kurapika to step inside.  From the smile on Chrollo’s face to the bounce in Kurapika’s step as he walked in, everything about the scene playing out infuriated her.  After the door closed she tore her eyes away and hastily pulled out her phone.

 

 **Machi:** You said you’d get rid of him by now.  

 

 **Hisoka:** All in good time, dear Machi ♣

 

She groaned.

 

 **Machi:** You better not have something up that puffy sleeve of yours.  

 

 **Hisoka:** Machi, where is your faith in me? I’m hurt…

 

**Hisoka:** I talked to his friend Leorio today and told him all about the exploits of little Pika.  He’ll come to that auction you told me about to rescue him. All you have to do is make sure Kurapika comes. ♥

 

**Hisoka:** See, aren’t I useful? ^^ ♦ 

 

**Machi:**  You better make sure he doesn’t see any of our faces.  

 

**Hisoka:** I wouldn’t worry about that, sweetheart.  That boy knows well just how dangerous you thieves are.  He wouldn’t dare try anything tomorrow night aside from saving his precious Kurapika. ♠

 

**Machi:** ugh.  He’s so annoying.  I would’ve killed him by now if boss hadn’t been so lovey-dovey with him.

 

**Hisoka:**  But he’s talented, no? ♦

 

**Machi:**  He can’t even compare to me.

 

**Hisoka:** Well, I agree with you there.  You are the most magnificent~~ ♥

 

Machi’s lips quirked up just a hair.  Hisoka had his moments. But the ache in her mind kept going back to Chrollo’s room.  What was going on in there? No-- she didn’t want to know. 

 

But why was it him, the little blond brat, and not her?  His loyal friend of years? What made him so much better?  Machi had looks, brains, talent, everything. Kurapika just wanted revenge.  He had hate in his eyes, even directed at Chrollo. Why would he like that so much?  She still hadn’t moved from that place in the hallway, and now she thought she heard… Oh god.  Yep, that was moaning, coming from his room. She grit her teeth.

 

**Machi:** I can’t be here anymore.  Where are you?

 

**Hisoka:** Oh? You want to see me?~ ♥

 

**Machi:** I just… need a distraction.  I want to get out of here. This blond idiot is driving me crazy.  Can you come to the cafe three blocks down? 

 

**Hisoka:** Sure.  Then after, would you like to come over to my place?  I know of an activity to distract you~~ ♥

 

**Machi:** … yes, fine.

 

She knew full well what would happen if she went to Hisoka’s place-- the same thing that happened every time she went.  She’d been past the point of caring ever since Chrollo had taken to Kurapika this way. She would slip out unnoticed, distract herself with everything Hisoka, then slip back into the hideout and lock herself in her room, as far from the hideous sounds of moaning and painful reminders of Kurapika’s influence as she could get.  Much to her chagrin, this was becoming somewhat of a routine.  _ Just until tomorrow night,  _ she told herself.  Then she could have her boss back right where she liked him, and stop feeding Hisoka information.  

  
  


* * *

  
  


In the main room, the entirety of the Troupe was standing around chatting idly, all the furniture pushed to the edges of the room.  They donned similar training clothes to the ones Chrollo had given Kurapika to wear. As the pair entered the room, the Troupe fell silent, all eyes turning to land on them.  

 

“Good morning everyone,” Chrollo said, easily taking control of the room.  

 

“Morning,” they mumbled, before Nobunaga spoke up.

 

“What’s the brat doing here?” he said, pointing to Kurapika.

 

“Kurapika has decided to join the spider.  Tonight will be his first mission.” Nobunaga narrowed his eyes, but to Kurapika’s surprise, Machi looked relieved, her lips quirking up into a smirk. Shalnark however, looked concerned.

 

“Isn’t this a little too big of an event for his first time?  I mean, shouldn’t he start with something a little easier and lower stakes?”  Shalnark inquired.

 

Chrollo waved his hand dismissively.  “Kurapika is more than capable. He’ll carry his weight just fine tonight, right Kurapika?”

 

Kurapika glanced around.  “Yeah… but actually, since I’m wanted for murder, don’t you think they’ll recognize me there?” he asked Chrollo.

 

Feitan chuckled.  “Even if they did, they’re in no place to rat you out.  You won’t believe the crimes these assholes have committed.”

 

“That’s right,” Chrollo said, putting a hand on Kurapika’s shoulder and giving him an affectionate look.  “Either way, we’ll have you behind the scenes tonight so you most likely won’t have to deal with anyone face-to-face.”

 

“Okay,” Kurapika said, smiling at Chrollo.  His smile was returned and they locked eyes in understanding.  In their moment of affection he thought he heard someone scoff, but when he looked back over everyone seemed largely unaffected.  

 

Chrollo stepped away from Kurapika and moved towards the side of the room, where he could address everyone fully.  “First thing’s first. We need to formally assess Kurapika’s combat skills.” Kurapika glanced around again, not sure what that sentence entailed yet, but everyone’s faces gave no hints.  “Who would like to spar with him to get things started?” 

 

“I do!” two voices shouted at once.  Machi and Nobunaga shot a sharp look at each other.  

 

“You know what to do,” Chrollo said, fishing a small shiny object out of his pocket.  A gold coin of some sort..?

 

“Heads,” Nobunaga called.

 

“Tails,” said Machi.  

 

They retrieved the coin from Chrollo and Machi flipped it.  

 

“Damn.  Get him good, Machi,” Nobunaga said as he returned to the group.  It was tails. Kurapika nearly sighed in relief. Though the both of them were intimidating, he felt he could at least probably win against Machi.  

 

“Kurapika, Machi, you’re up.  Everyone clear out.” Sure enough everyone moved to the sides of the room, taking seats on furniture to watch.  

 

As soon as Kurapika walked towards Machi her eyes were dark, and hungry.  It felt close to murderous intent, but.. she wouldn’t go that far, right?

 

With no notice she swung at him, landing a blow to his arm.  It hurt, but he had no time to feel the pain. He caught her next blow before it landed, catching her arm and locking it between his arm and his side, cutting off her movement.  Her pink hair thrashed wildly as she tried to free herself, for a moment, before she gave up and hooked her leg behind his, knocking him onto the floor. Kurapika didn’t lose grip of her arm though, and with her on top of him he was able to successfully pull her into a compromising position.  

 

Although he knew little about her, he did know that she hated him, and he was going to exploit it.  Their bodies pushed together, her chest pressed against Kurapika’s as he pulled her down against him.  She gasped at the sudden full body contact, and Kurapika could see the shock, and even hint of a blush dusting her cheeks.

 

“Hey what do you think you’re…” she started, eyes widening, but he was faster, and grabbed her other arm.  With a thrust of his hips he rolled her over and pinned her arms and legs down. She scowled and tried to squirm away from his grip to no avail.  He smirked at her. Eventually she gave up and glared into his eyes, the pink even more prominent on her cheekbones, and her sharp blue eyes piercing into him. 

 

Kurapika looked up at Chrollo, who was perched on the back of a couch, staring down at them.  His eyes were half lidded, his lips turned up. He looked… proud. And a hint of something else Kurapika wasn’t sure he was reading right, but nonetheless sent a different shade of pink across his own cheeks.  He quickly got off of Machi after that and brushed himself off.

 

“Well done, Kurapika.” Chrollo said, grinning.  Machi got up after that, swiftly hiding her face away from the rest of the Troupe.  Shalnark came up and gave Kurapika a high five, with Shizuku following suit thereafter.  The rest followed and clustered in the center of the room again. “Before we break up into sparring partners as usual, we’ll discuss the plans for tonight.”

 

“I wanna be on the floor!” Shalnark exclaimed.

 

“I  _ don’t  _ wanna be on the floor,” Feitan added.  Franklin grunted in agreement.

 

“Okay.  Shalnark, you’ll be with me on the floor, helping with distractions.  Feitan, you’ll do behind the scenes work with Shizuku as clean up help.  Kurapika, you’ll be with them as well. Machi, you’re also with them. Everyone else will stand by and help with carrying.”  

 

“But boss,” Machi started, but Chrollo silenced her immediately with a wave of his hand.  

 

“Your skills are most needed with Kurapika, Feitan, and Shizuku.”  Machi lifted her eyes and opened her mouth to protest, but when Kurapika looked over at her she resigned and looked down, saying nothing.  The blush that was nearly faded from her face crept up again at his eyes. “As for our strategy,” Chrollo continued, as he explained the general process of how things were going to go.  It seemed no one really needed it except Kurapika, because they’d all done it so many times. Kurapika paid close attention though. “... And I heard this year they’ll be using a special kind of vault to hold the projected highest price items.”

 

“Guess they learned their lesson from last year,” Phinks chimed in.  Everyone chuckled as Kurapika’s eyes danced across their faces. 

 

“This safe is of the sort that the most high profile banks use.  A media safe, I believe. Apparently it’s new technology. Have any of you heard of it?”

 

“I’ve heard of it boss, but I’ve never tried to crack it,” Shalnark said.  

 

“And Shizuku?” 

 

“I don’t know about it.”

 

Kurapika piped up.  “I know how to crack it.  They taught us this kind of thing in the YNPD, in case a criminal was hiding stuff in a safe.”

 

Everyone’s eyes turned to him, half of them with incredulous looks and half of them with grins.  Chrollo was one of the grins. “Excellent,” he said, that look of pride shining in his eyes again.  “I knew you’d make a great asset.” Kurapika couldn’t help but feel happy at his praise. Their eyes again remained locked as the rest of the room shifted awkwardly.  “Time to break up for sparring partners. Kurapika, you’re with me.” Chrollo advanced towards Kurapika as the rest of the Troupe paired off. Kurapika vaguely noticed Nobunaga and Machi pairing with each other, before his focus was shifted completely to dark hair, dark eyes, and a cross tattoo in front of him.  Chrollo wasted no time in getting close to him, grabbing his hand for a squeeze before he leaned in and whispered, “I’ll go easy on you this time.” 

 

“No way.  Don’t hold back,” Kurapika protested.

 

“I don’t think you could handle it.”

 

“Try me.”

 

“Alright.  But don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Chrollo said, and before Kurapika had a moment to think he was on the ground, his back vaguely pained with the force of being pushed down.  

 

“See, I could just pin you here, but what fun would that be?” Chrollo taunted, hovering over him.  

 

“No fair, you cheated!” Kurapika said.  Chrollo smirked, and with the proximity of their bodies Kurapika’s mind flashed again to thoughts of last night, and when he was chained to the bed.  Chrollo’s mind must have as well, because he leaned closer until Kurapika could feel his warm breath near his mouth. There was an ever so slight brush of their lips, and Kurapika’s eyes drooped halfway involuntarily.  Then it was over and Chrollo was off of him. “Fucking tease…” Kurapika grumbled to himself before he moved to stand up.

 

“What was that?” Chrollo said, his keen ears never failing to miss a sound.  

 

“Nothing at all,” Kurapika quipped.  He’d get him back for that. In the moment Chrollo was off guard he used a move he learned in combat training.  The good ol’ flip-em-backwards. It was his turn to get Chrollo on his back, and he succeeded. He anticipated Chrollo’s moves once there, he was focused now, had a goal.  With Chrollo down he climbed on top of him, arms and legs pinned. "You know," Kurapika whispered, headily, after his momentary victory lap around his mind, "you should never let your guard down, boss." And with that, Chrollo’s eyes turned darker.  

 

“I’ll give it to you, I didn’t see it coming this time.”  Kurapika just smirked, before removing his right hand to trace it slowly down Chrollo’s chest, and his side.  Chrollo didn’t move.

 

"Kurapika," Chrollo said, almost warningly. 

 

Kurapika peered down, innocently.  "Is something wrong?" Chrollo looked to the side, where his Troupe members seemed busy and distracted fighting each other.  Kurapika took advantage of this to ghost his hand over the seam in his pants, right over his crotch, before chuckling and leaning down to whisper to him.  “Two can play at this game, you know.” He then swiftly got off of Chrollo, satisfied with his revenge as Chrollo lay there for another moment, stunned. 

 

“You never fail to surprise me, Kurapika,” Chrollo said, and then finally got up.  

 

"I assure you, I have no idea what you mean. So, are we gonna fight, or what?" Kurapika said.  

 

“Actually, I think we’re done with that portion,” he said, and then moved back to his position in front of everyone.  They slowly stopped fighting, one pair after another, and turned their attention to Chrollo. “I’ll be stepping out for a moment, so make sure you get yourselves and help Kurapika prepare everything for tonight.  Shalnark, come with me, we’re going to the area to get everything ready.”

 

“Okay!” Shalnark chirped.

 

Before Chrollo and Shalnark left, he pulled Kurapika to the side.  “I’ll see you tonight,” he said, “don’t worry, you’ll do amazing, I’m sure of it.”  

 

Kurapika nodded and squeezed his hand.  Chrollo then fished an object out of his pocket.  “Take this. I already put in all our numbers and we’ll text you periodically with updates.  Also, take these, just in case.” It was a new uPhone Z, and a pair of brown contacts. 

 

“Alright, I’ll keep you updated as well.”  Chrollo smiled and pulled him in for a short, yet tender hug, and quick peck on the lips.  “See you.”

 

With Chrollo and Shalnark gone Kurapika felt a bit more uneasy, but masked it easily with his default stoic expression.  At least Shizuku was still here. She bounced right over to him and started telling him about what usually happens behind the scenes, and what they did at the last auction.  He listened carefully, and with her help, he felt better about the whole thing, knowing the whole plan. He was never one for winging things, especially when it was unnecessary, and the Phantom Troupe was a good fit for him in that they had a whole routine for heists.  From start to finish, the whole thing was choreographed, as if they were simply dancers who only needed to execute a set of synchronous moves and then exit the stage. It came easily to him.

 

After he was sufficiently briefed the group split up, and he was left to his own devices for a moment.  He helped to move the furniture back, then decided to take a seat at the dining table to collect his thoughts.  He decided to mess around with his new phone, to find it was completely free to him. He could access the internet, all the apps, call or text anyone he wanted… 

 

It occurred to him--he could call Leorio.  Step outside, have him pick him up, never come back.  Re-join the YNPD. That thought blew over quickly. Firstly because he was wanted for murder.  What kind of life could he even have if he escaped? Second, because he just wouldn’t. Chrollo giving him this phone meant he had earned his full trust.  There was Chrollo, Shizuku, Shalnark, Meteor City now… he couldn't so easily forsake all he'd learned here, and the people he'd grown to like and trust. Just then, Kurapika’s thought process was interrupted by Machi, who took the seat next to him. She carried what looked like a gun, with a needle.  Kurapika slowly turned to her, eyes widened.

 

She ignored his fear, and spoke.  “Where do you want it.” 

 

“What?”

 

“Where do you want it?”  She asked again, her voice now tinged with annoyance.  

 

“I’m not so sure what you’re talking about.”

 

She sighed.  “Your tattoo, idiot.”

 

“Oh.” Kurapika contemplated for a moment.  “Right here, I guess.” He pointed to his right upper arm.  

 

“Take off your shirt,” she demanded.  He complied, lifting the fabric over his head and onto the table.  

 

“Number 8, number 11, or number 4.  Those are your choices.” 

 

“Number 11.” Kurapika just picked randomly, really.  He didn’t want to prolong her agitation. She then brought the needle gun up to his arm and started the tattoo.  It stabbed into him. “Ow,” he winced. 

 

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Machi said, smirking.  

 

Kurapika tried to keep silent and bear through the pain.  Sometimes it felt like a cat scratching, and then sometimes it felt more like a piercing stab.  “Ow,” he winced again. “Is it really supposed to hurt this much?” He wondered if sometimes she was stabbing him deeper on purpose.  She smirked in response. He sighed. Of course Machi would be the one to give him the tattoo. 

 

After what seemed like forever, the spider on his arm had gained three legs.  On the fourth leg though, Machi went off course, veering off to the side. A thin line of black appeared stringing towards his elbow.  He shot a look at Machi.

 

“Oops…” she half giggled.  “Got distracted there,” she said with a shrug, and Kurapika scoffed.  

 

“Just don’t mess it up anymore,” he said, and she fell silent with a hardened look.  

 

Another forever passed, and the spider was complete.  

 

“All done,” Machi said, then as quickly as she had sat down she was already up and strutting down the hallway.  He stared at her work, where now a red halo of irritated skin was swelling around the large spider on his arm.  Other than the thin streak of black off the edge of the fourth leg, it actually looked pretty cool. A black spider, number 11.  It was official, complete. He was part of the Phantom Troupe. He let out a half laugh at the surreal feeling of it all coming to life before him. If you had told him six months ago he’d be joining the Phantom Troupe and dating the leader he would have laughed in your face.  Funny how life can turn one-eighty like that. 

 

“Kurapikaaa~” Shizuku sang as she walked into the room, back from wherever she was. Other than her usual outfit of a black turtleneck and pants, she wore a short dress.  Kurapika gazed at her with pleasant surprise, still shirtless. “Oh, I see you got your tattoo,” she said. “Number eleven, nice.” 

 

“Yeah.  It was a surprise to me too.”  

 

“Well, it’s time to get ready!  We’re leaving soon. Put on a nice suit, and we’ll meet you out here in an hour.  Sound good?”

 

“Why the suit?  I thought we’d be behind the scenes tonight.”  

 

“Just in case.  If we run into someone we can pretend like we were just auction goers in the wrong place.”

 

“I see.  Okay, see you then,” Kurapika said, standing up and grabbing his shirt.  Shizuku gave him a nod and then went back down the hall. Although he felt sufficiently prepared and briefed, it was another thing to actually be going on this heist.  With a deep breath, he returned to his room, and jumped in the shower. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, would absolutely adore a comment-- they really make me more motivated to finish, honestly. Comments are what finally got me to write this chapter haha. Next chapter might come with a bit of a wait, because again, I don't know the details of the auction. I know 100% what will happen after it, but the auction has to contain a lot of people doing important things within this world and action scenes and coordinated group activity and interaction... It's harder to write than you'd think, and I'm sorry. Love you guys. Big thanks to my friend Chocoholic221B for helping me out with ideas and writing this. Love love <3

**Author's Note:**

> Again, thank you so so much for reading! I have so much fun writing this! I love feedback and hearing from my readers, so please comment with any thoughts you might have! I'll try to update frequently-hopefully every week/every other week. I'm also a college student, so bear with me. 
> 
>  


End file.
